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FA610 



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5021 
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16 

,y 1 No. II. 

MODERN STANDARD DRAMA. 

EDITED BY EPES SARGENT, 

AUTHOB OF "VeLASCO, A TRAGEDY," &C 



FAZIO: 

OR, 

THE ITALIAN WIFE: 

IN FIVE ACTS. 
BY THE REV. H.' hT MILMAN. 



WITH STAGE DIRECTIONS, AND COSTUMES, MARKED AND CORRECTBO 
BY J. B. ADDIS, PROMPTER. 




NEW YORK : 
M. DOUGLAS, 11 SPRUCE STREET. 

AND FOR SALE BY AM, BOOKSELLERS. 



<f 



EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 



Henry Hart Milman, the author of Fazio, and many 
other works, poetical and historical, was bom in London, 
February 10th, 1791 ; and was the youngest son of Sir 
Francis Milman, a physician of eminence. After passing 
nine years at Eton, our poet went to Oxford, at which 
University he obtained the greatest number of prizes that 
ever fell to the lot of one individual. Some of these 
were for English and some for Latin compositions. 

In the year 1817, Mr. Milman entered into holy orders, 
and in 1821, he was elected professor of poetry in the 
University, an office, which, we believe, he still continues 
to hold. The works by which he was first distinguished 
were principally poetical ; and of these " Fazio" was the 
first. It was followed by " The Fall of Jerusalem," 
" Samor, an heroic poem," " Anne Boleyn," " The Mar- 
tyr of Antioch," and other productions evincing great 
dramatic ability and a chastened taste. Of late years, his 
labours appear to have been of a different character. He 
has contributed largely to the Quarterly Review ; and 
his " History of the Jews," and " Notes to Gibbon's 
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," have given him 
a high rank as a historian. 



VI 



The play of " Fazio" was written while Mr. Milmaa 
wa.s at Oxford, and was published somewhere near his 
twenty-fifth year. It found its way upon the stage with- 
out his interference, and indeed without his consent being 
in any single instance solicited. 

" Its first appearance," says the author, " was, I believe, 
at the Surrey Theatre, where it was brought forward under 
the name of ' The Italian Wife,' and it had been acted 
some time before I Avas aware that the piece of that name 
was my work. That theatre was then, I believe, only 
licensed for operatic performances, but the company con- 
trived to elude this restriction by performing all kinds of 
Dramas with what they called a musical accompaniment. 
Every now and then the string of a solitary violin was 
heard, when the actors went on in their parts without the 
slightest regard to the said accompaniment, and so repre- 
sented any regular drama which might suit their purpose. 
It was in this manner that I first saw the performance of 
Fazio, but I remember that the actress, who personated 
Bianca, was by no means deficient in power, and only 
wanted a better audience to improve her taste. Fazio 
was afterwards acted with complete success at Bath, and 
this, I believe, inclined the managers of Covent Garden to 
bring it forward on the London stage. This was done 
without even the common courtesy of giving me notice of 
their intention. The first information which I received 
on the subject, was the request of Mr. C. Kemble, with 
whom I was then but slightly acquainted, through my inti 
mate friend, his gifted sister, Mrs. Siddons, to permit hiu 
to read the part of Fazio to me." 

The play is founded on a story, which was quoted ii 



vu 



the Annual Register for 1795, from the "Varieties of 
Literature ;" but great liberties have been taken with it. 
Some of the materials employed in it may also be found 
among the tales of Boccacio. 

Miss O'Neill first made the reputation of Fazio as an 
acting drama by her impressive acting in Bianca. This part 
was afterwards performed with gi-eat success both in En- 
gland and the United States, by Miss Kemble, whose per- 
sonation of the character must ever live in the remembrance 
of those who had the good fortune to witness it. Indeed, 
few parts, in the whole range of the British drama, afford 
such a scope for the exercise of the powers of a tragic 
actress of great genius. Intense as are the passions de- 
picted, there is nothing overstrained in the language and 
sentiments, to which the frenzied wife gives utterance. 
The heart of a popular audience sympathises with her 
deeply and painfully throughout, 

" Fazio" is no less worthy of admirati)n in the closet 
than it is deeply interesting in the represenlation. It will, 
we believe, long be regarded as one of the most felicitous 
dramatic productions, that have infused hope and life into 
the stage since the Shakspearian era. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Park, 1832.* Park, 184*. 

Duke of Florence Mr. Clarke. Mr. Stark. 

Gontalvo " Blakely. •' Anderson. 

Aurio " Connery. " Sprague. 

Qiraldi Fazio " Keppel. " Davenport. 

Bartolo " Barry. " Barry. 

Falsetto " Riching.^. •' A. Andrews. 

Philario " Flynn. " Sutherland 

TkMd4>re " Harvev. " M' DoualL 

Antonio <• Jacksou •• Gallot. 

Pitro '• " Milot 

Qtntleman " Nexsen " Matthew*. 

Bianca Miss Fan-j v Kcinble. Mrs. Mowatt. 

Counte$t Aldabella Mrs. Sharpe. Mrs. Abbott. 

Clara Mrs. Durie. Miss Hall. 

Senators, Guards, ifC. 
* Miss Fanny Kemble's first appearance in America. 



COSTUMES. 

F.4Z10. First drees : Brown doublet aiul trunks, trimmed and puffed with black , 
hataiid stockings to match; brown Spanish cloak. — Second dress: Light-coloureit 
tunic with gold embroidery, white pantaloons, russet boots, hat and feathers. — 
Third dress: Similar to first. 

BARTOLO. — Dark-coloured doublet and trunks, dark breeches, and hat. 

DUKE. — Velvet dress of crimson or lilac, with purple robe, richly embroidered with 
gold ; velvet cap and feather. 

GONSALVO and AURIO. — Scarlet gowns trimmed with ermine, and black caps. 

THEODORE and ANTONIO.— Fancy-coloured jacket.^ blue silk sashes, buff pan- 
taloons, russet boots, round hats and plumes. 

PIERO. — Gray doublet, trimmed, trunks and stockings. 

PHILARIO, FALSETTO, and DANDOLO.— After the style of Fazio's second 
dress, but of different colours. 

BIANCA. — First dress : Slate-coloured robe trimmed with black velvet, with a gir- 
dle of the same. — Second dress: Rich satin dress, with a purple flowing robe em- 
broidered with gold. — Third dress: Similar to the first. 

ALDABELLA. — White satin dress with straw-coloured silk boddice and train 
richly ornamented with gold and silver. 

CLARA.— Plain white dress. 



KXITS AND KNTRANCES. 
R. means Itighl ; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. I.e/l Door; 
8. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. 

RELATIVFC POSITIONS. 
Tl., mehns Rigid; L., Left • C, Centre ; B.. C, Right of Centre; 
L. C , Left of Centre. 

ff.B. Paeeagea marked with Inverted Commas, are usually omitted in tlu 
representation. 



FAZIO: 

■2. SEragelrn. 



AC T I. 



Scene I. — A Rocnn with crucibles and apparatus of Al* 

cliymy. 

Enter Fazio and Bianca, r. 

Faz. (r. c.) Why, what a peevish, envious fabuliat 
Was he, that vowed cold wedlock's atmosphere 
Wearies the thin and dainty plumes of love ; 
That a fond husband's holy appetite, 
Like the gross surfeit of intemperate joy, 
Grows sickly and fastidious at the sweets 
Of its own chosen flower ! My own Bianca 
With what delicious scorn we laugh away 
Such sorry satire ! 

Bian. (l. c. ) Which of thy smooth books 
Teaches this harmony of bland deceit ? 
Oh, my own Fazio ! if a serpent told me 
That it was stingless in a tone like thine, 
I should believe it. Oh, thou sweetly false ! 
That at cold midnight quitt'st my side to pore 
O'er musty tomes, dark sign'd and character'd 
O'er boiling skellets, crucibles and stills, 
Drugs and elixirs. 

Faz. Ay, chide on, my love ; 
The nightingale's complaining is more sweet. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Park, 1832.* Park, 18M. 

Duke of Florence Mr. Clurke. Mr. Stark. 

Oontalto " Blakely. •' Anderson. 

Aurio " Connery, " Sprague. 

Giraldi Fazio " Keppel. " Davenport. 

Bartolo " Barry. '< Barry. 

FaUetto " Riching.«. •• A. Andrews. 

Philario " Flynn. " Sutherland 

Theodore " Harvev. " M' DoualL 

'Antonio " Jacksou •' Gallot. 

P'tro " •' Milot. 

Gentleman " Nexsen " Matthews. 

Bianea Miss Fany v Kcmble. Mrs. Mowatt. 

Countese Aldabella Mrs. Sharpe. Mrs. Abbott. 

OJOAJ Mrs. Diirio. Miss Hall. 

Senators, Guards, IfC. 
* Miss Fanny Kemble's first appearance in America. 



COSTUMES. 

F.tZlO. First drees : Brown doublet and trunks, trimmed and puffed with black , 
hat and stockings to match ; brown Spanish cloak. — Second dress : l^ight-coloureil 
tunic with gold embroiilcry, white pantaloons, russet boot", hat and feathers. — 
Third dress: Similar to first. 

BARTOLO. — Dark-coloured doublet and trunks, dark breeches, and hat. 

DUKE. — Velvet dress of crimson or lilac, with purple robe, richly embroidered with 
gold ; velvet cap and feather. 

GONSALVO and AURIO. — Scarlet gowns trimmed with ermine, and black caps. 

THEODORE and ANTONIO.— Fancy-coloured jaeket-s blue silk sashes, buff pan- 
taloons, russet boots, round hats and plumes. 

PIERO. — Gray doublet, trinuned, trunks and stockings. 

PHILARIO, FALSETTO, and DANDOLO.— After the style of Fazio's second 
dress, but of different colours. 

BIANCA. — First dress: Slate-coloured robe trimmed with black velvet, with a gir- 
dle of the same. — Second dress: Rich satin dress, with a purple flowing robe em- 
broidered with gold. — Third dress: Similar to the first. 

ALDABELLA. — White satin dress with straw-coloured silk boddice and train 
richly ornamented with gold and silver. 

CLARA.— Plain white dress. 



f'-XITS AND ENTRANCES. 
R. means lii^IU ; L. Left; R. D. Fight Door; L. D. Left Door; 
S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. 

RELATIVE POSITIONS. 
R., means Right; L., Left • C, Centre ; R. C, Right of Centre; 
L. C , Left of Centre. 

O.B. Pattoffea marked with Inverted Commas, are utnally omitted in (A« 
representation. 



FAZIO 



AC T I. 



Scene I. — A Room, with crticibles and apparatus of Al» 

cliymy. 

Enter Fazio and Bianca, r. 

Faz. (r. c.) Why, what a peevish, envious fabulist 
Was he, that vowed cold wedlock's atmosphere 
Wearies the thin and dainty plumes of love ; 
That a fond husband's holy appetite, 
Like the gross surfeit of intemperate joy, 
Grows sickly and fastidious at the sweets 
Of its own chosen flower ! My own Bianca 
With what delicious scorn we laugh away 
Such sorry satire ! 

Bian. (l. c. ) Which of thy smooth books 
Teaches this harmony of bland deceit % 
Oh, my own Fazio ! if a serpent told me 
That it was stingless in a tone like thine, 
1 should believe it. Oh, thou sweetly false ! 
That at cold midnight quitt'st my side to pore 
O'er musty tomes, dark sign'd and character'd 
O'er boiling skellets, crucibles and stills. 
Drugs and elixirs. 

Faz. Ay, chide on, my love ; 
The nightingale's complaining is more sweet. 



10 FAZIO. [Act 1 

Than half the dull unvarying birds that pipe 
Perpetual amorous joy. — Tell me, Bianca, 
How long is't since we wedded 1 

Bian. Would'st thou know 
The right and title to thy weariness % — 
]3eyond two years. 

Faz. Days, days, Bianca ! Love 
Hath in its calendar no tedious time, 
So long as what cold lifeless souls call years. 
Oh, with my books, my sage philosophy. 
My infants, and their mother, time slides on 
So smoothly, as 'twere fall'n asleep, foi'getting 
Its heaven-ordained motion. We are poor ; 
But in the wealth of love, in that, Bianca, 
In that we are eastern sultans. I have thought, 
If that my wondrous alchymy should win 
That precious liquor, whose transmuting dew 
Makes the black iron start forth brilliant gold, 
Were it not wise to cast it back again 
Into its native darkness ? 

Bian. Out upon it ! — 
Oh, leave it there, my Fazio ! leave it there !— 
I hate it ! 'Tis my rival, 'tis thy mistress ! 
Ay, this it is that makes thee strange and restless, 
A truant to thine own Bianca's arms, 
This wondrous secret. 

Faz. Dost thou know, Bianca, 
Our neighbour, old Bartolo ? 

Bian. O yes, yes ! 
That yellow wretch, that looks as he wei'e stain'd 
With watching his own gold ; every one knows him. 
Enough to loathe him. Not a friend hath he, 
Nor kindred nor familiar ; not a slave. 
Not a lean serving wench : nothing e'er entered 
But his spare self within his jealous doors. 
Except a wandering rat ; and that, they say. 
Was famine-struck, and died theie. — What of him ? 

Faz. Yet he, Bianca, he is of our rich ones : 
There's not a galliot on the sea, but bears 
A venture of Bartolo's ; not an acre. 
Nay, not a villa cf our proudest princes, 



S;ene I.J 



FA/IO. 11 



But he hatb cramp'd it with a mortgage ; he, 

He only stocks our prisons with his debtors. 

I saw him creeping home last night : he shuddered 

As he unlock'd his door, and looked around 

As if he thought that every breath of wind 

Were some keen thief : and when he lock'd him in, 

I heard the grating key turn twenty times, 

To try if all were safe. I look'd again 

From our high window by mere chance, and saw 

The motion of his scanty moping lantern ; 

And, whei'e his wind-rent lattice was ill stuffed 

With tattered remnants of a money-bag, 

Through cobwebs and thick dust I spied his face, 

Like some dry wither-boned anatoiny. 

Through a huge chest-lid, jealously and scantily 

ITplifted, peering upon coin and jewels. 

Ingots and wedges, and broad bars of gold, 

Upon whose lustre the wan light shone muddily. 

As though the 'New World had outrun the Spaniard, 

And emptied all its mines in that coarse hovel. 

His ferret eyes gloated as wanton o'er them. 

As a gross Satyr on a sleeping Nymph ! 

And then, as he heard something like a sound, 

He clapp'd the lid to, and blew out the lantern. 

And I, Bianca, hurried to thy arms. 

And thanked my God that I had braver riches. 

Bian. Oh, then, let that black furnace burst ! dash down 
Those ugly and mis-shapen jars and vials. 
Nay, nay, most sage philosopher, to-night, 
At least to-night, be only thy Bianca's. [Skc dings to him, 

Faz. (Looking fondhj on her.) Why, e'en the prince of 
bards was false and slanderous. 
Who girt Jove's bride in that voluptuous zone. 
Ere she could win her weary lord to love ; 
While my earth-boni Bianca bears by nature 
An ever-blooming cestus of delight ! 

Bian. So courtly and so fanciful, my Fazio ! 
Which of our dukes hath lent thee his cast poesies ? 
Why, such a musical and learned phrase 
Had soften'd the marchesa, Aldabella, 
That high signora, who once paraper'd thee 



12 FAZIO. [Act I. 

Almost to madness with he'* rosy smiles ; 
And then my lady queen put on her winter. 
And froze thee till thou wert a very icicle, 
Had not the lowly and despised Bianca 
Shone on it with the summer of her pity ! 

Faz. Nay, taunt not her, Bianca, taunt net her 1 
Thy Fazio loved her once. Who, who would blame 
Heaven's moon, because a maniac hath adored it. 
And died in his dotage ] E'en a saint might wear 
Proud Aldabella's scorn, nor look less heavenly. 
Oh, it dropp'd balm upon the v/ounds it gave ; 
The Boul was pleased to be so sweetly wrong'd, 
And miseiy giew rapturous. Aldabella ! 
The gracious ! the melodious ! Oh, the words 
Laugh'd on her lips ; the motion of her smiles 
Shower'd beauty, as the air-caressed spray 
The dews of morning ; and her stately steps 
"Were light as though a winged angel trod 
Over earth's flowers, and feared to brush away 
Their delicate hues ; ay, e'en her very robes 
Were animate and breathing, as they felt 
The presence of her loveliness, spread around 
Their thin and gauzy clouds, ministering freely 
Officious duty on the shrine where Nature 
Hath lavish'd all her skill. 

Bian. A proud loose wanton ! 

Faz. She wanton! — Aldabella loose ! — Then, thjB 
Are the pui'e lilies black as soot within. 
The stainless virgin snow is hot and rancid. 
And chastity — ay, it may be in heaven, 
But all beneath the moon is wild and haggard. 
If she be spotted, oh, unholiness 
Hath never been so delicately lodged 
Since that bad devil walk'd fair Paradise. 

Bian. Already silent ? Hath your idol quafF'd 
Enough of your soft incense % Fazio ! Fazio ! 
But that her gaudy bark would aye disdar.i 
The quiet stream whereon we glide so smooth, 
^ should bo fearful of ye. 

Faz. Nay, unjust ! 
Ungenerous Bianca ! who foregoes, 



ScEWEl] FAZIO. 13 

For the gay revel of a golden hai-p, 

Its ecstacies and rich enchanting falls, 

His own domestic lute's familiar pleasing 1 

But thou, thou vain and wanton in thy power, 

Thou know'st canst make e'en jealousy look lovely, 

And all thy punishment for that bad passion 

Be this — [ Kisses her ] — Good night ! — I will but snatch a 

look 
How the great crucible doth its slow work, 
And be with thee ; unless thou fanciest, sweet, 
That Aldabella lurks behind the furnace ; 
And then, Heaven knows how long I may be truant. 

\E,xit BlANCA, R. 

Faz. (r. c. solus.) Oh, what a star of the first magnitude 
Were poor young Fazio, if his skill should work 
The wond'rous secret your deep-closeted sages 
Grow grey in dreaming of ! Why, all our Florence 
Would be too nari'ow for his branching glories ; 
It would o'erleap the Alps, and all the north 
Troop here to see the great philosopher. 
He would be wealthy too — wealthy in fame ; 
And that's more golden than the richest gold. 

\A groan toithout. 
Holy St. Francis ! what a groan was there ! 

Bar. (Without). Within there! — Oh! within there, 

neighbour ! Death ! 
Murder, and merciless robbery ! 

Fazio opens the door — Enter Bartolo. 

Faz. Wliat! Bartolo! 

Bar. Thank ye, my friend ! Ha ! ha ! ha! my old limbs ! 
I did not think them half so tough and sinewy. 
St. Dominic ! but their pins prick'd close and keen. 
Six of 'em, strong and sturdy, with their daggers, 
Tickling the old man to let loose his ducats ! 

Faz. Who, neighbour, who ! 

Bar. Robbers, black crape-faced robbers, 
Your only blood-suckers, that drain your veins. 
And yet their meagre bodies aye grow sparer. 
They knew that I had moneys from the Duke 
But I o'eiTeach'd them, neighbour : not a ducat, 
B 



14 FAZIO. 



{Act I 



Nay, not a doit, to cross themselves withal, 

Got they from old Bartolo. Oh, I bleed ! 

And my old heart beats minutes like a clock. 
Faz. A surgeon, friend ! 
Bar. Ay, one of your kind butchers, 

Who cut and slash your flesh for their own pastime. 

And then, God bless the mark ! they must have money ! 

Gold, gold, or nothing ! Silver is grown coarse. 

And rings unhandsomely. Have I 'scaped robbing, 

Only to give 1 Oh there ! there ! there ! Cold, cold, 

Cold as December. 

Faz. Nay, then, a confessor ! 

Bar. A confessor ! one of your black smooth talkers, 

That drone the name of God incessantly. 

Like the drear burthen of a doleful ballad ! 

That sing to one of bounteous codicils 

To the Franciscans or some hospital ! 

Oh ! there's a shooting ! — Oozing he»8 ! — Ah mel 

My ducats and my ingots scarcely cold 

From the hot Indies ! Oh ! and I forgot 

To seal those jewels from the Milan Duke ! 

Oh ! misery, misery ! — Just this very day, 

And that mad spendthrift Angelo hath not sign'd 

The mortgage on those meadows by the Arno. 
Oh ! miseiy, misery ! — Yet I 'scap'd them bravely, 

And brought my ducats off' ! [Die* 

Faz. Why, e'en lie there, as foul a mass of earth 
As ever loaded it. 'Twere sin to charity 
To wring one drop of brine upon thy coi'pse. 
In sooth. Death's not nice-stomach'd, to be cramm'd 
With such unsavoury offlil. What a god 
'Mong men might this dead wither'd thing have been. 
That now must rot beneath the earth, as once 
He rotted on it ! Why, his wealth had won 
In better hands an atmosphere around him, 
Musical ever with the voice of blessing, — 
Nations around his tomb, like marble mourners, 
Vied for their pedestals. — In better hands 1 
Methinks these fingers are nor coarse nor clumsy. 
Philosophy ! Philosophy ! thou'rt lame 
And tortoise-paced to my fleet desires ! 



8%Cfrc II.] 



FAZIO. 16 



I scent a shorter path to fame and riches. 
The Hesperian trees nod their rich clusters at me, 
TickUng my timorous and withdrawing grasp ; — 
I would, yet dare not ; — that's a coward's reckoning. 
Half of the sin lies in " I would." To-morrow, 
If that it find me poor, will write me fool. 
And myself be a mock unto myself. 
Ay, and the body murder'd in my house ! 
Your caiTion breeds most strange and loathsome insects — 
Suspicion's of the quickest and the keenest — 
So, neighbour, by your leave, your keys ! In sooth 
Thou hadst no desperate love for holy church ; 
Long-knolled bell were no sweet music to thee. 
A " God be with thee" shall be all thy mass ; 
Thou never loved'st those dry and droning priests. 
Thou'lt rot most cool and quiet in my garden ; 
Your gay and gilded vault would be too costly. [Exit, 

with the hody of Bartolo. 

Scene II. — A Street. 

Enter Fazio with a dark lantern, r. 

Faz. I, wont to rove like a tame household dog, 
Caress'd by every hand, and fearing none, 
Now prowl e'en like a gi'ay and treasonous wolf. 
'Tis a bad deed to rob, and I'll have none on't : 
'Tis a bad deed to rob — and whom % the dead ? 
Ay, of their winding-sheets and coffin nails. 
'Tis but a quit-rent for the land I sold him, 
Almost two yards to house him and his worms ; 
Somewhat usurious in the main, but that 
Is honest thrift to your keen usurer. 
Had he a kinsman, nay a friend, 'twere devilish. 
But now whom rob I ] why the state — In sooth, 
Marvellous little owe I this same state. 
That I should be so dainty of its welfare. 
Methinks our Duke hath pomp enough ; our Senate, 
Sit in their scarlet robes and ermine tippets, 
And live in proud and pillar'd palaces. 
Where their Greek wines flow plentiful. — Besides, 
T(» scatter it abroad amid so many. 



16 FAZIO. 



[Act! 



It were to cut the sun out into spangles, 

And max its brilliance by dispersing it. 

Away ! eway ! his burying is my Rubicon ! 

Caesar or nothing ! Now, ye close-lock'd treasures, 

Put on your gaudiest hues, outshine yourselves ! 

With a deliverer's, not a tyrant's hand, 

Invade I thus your dull and peaceful slumbers, 

And give you light and liberty. Ye shall not 

Moulder and rust m pale and pitiful darkness, 

But front the sun with light bright as his own. [Exit, h. 

Scene III. — T/ie Street near Fazio's door. 
Re-enter Fazio wit7i a sack, r : he rests it. 
Faz. My steps were ever to this door, as though 
They trod on beds of perfume and of down. 
The winged birds were not by half so light, 
When through the lazy twilight air they wheel 
Home to their brooding mates. But now, methinks. 
The heavy earth doth cling around my feet. 
I move as every separate limb were gyved 
With its particular weight of manacle. 
The moonlight that was wont to seem so soft. 
So balmy to the slow respired breath. 
Icily, shiveringly cold falls on me. 
The marble pillars, that soared stately up. 
As though to prop the azure vault of heaven, 
Hang o'er me with a dull and dizzy weight. 
The stones whereon I tread do grimly speak. 
Forbidding echoes, ay, with human voices: 
Unbodied arms pluck at me as I pass. 
And socketless pale eyes look glaring on me. 
But I have passed them : and methinks this weight 
Might strain moi'e sturdy sinews than mine own. 
Ho%vbeit, thank God, 'tis safe! Thank God! — for whatt 
That a poor honest man's grown a rich villain. [Exit l. 

Scene IV. — Fazio's House. 
Enter Fazio with Ms sacJc, r., lohich he opens and surveys. 
Faz. I thank ye, bounteous thieves ! most liberal f;hieves ! 
Your daggers are my worshif . Have ye leap'd 



ScETO IV.] FAZIO 17 

The broad and sharp-stak'd trenches of tht law, 

Mock'd at the deep damnation that attaints 

The souls of murderers, for my hands unbloodied, 

As delicately, purely white as ever, 

To pluck the golden fruitage 1 Oh, I thank ye. 

Will chronicle ye, my good friends and true. 

Enter Bianca l. — Fazio conceals the treasure. 

Bian. (l. c.) Nay, Fazio, nay ; this is too much : nay, 
Fazio, 
I'll not be humoured like a froward child, 
Trick'd into sleep with pretty tuneful tales. 

Faz. (r. c.) We feast the Duke to-morrow : shall it be 
In the Adorni or Vitelli palace ? 
They're both on sale, and each is fair and lofty, 

Bian. Why, Fazio, art thou frantic ] Nay, look not 
So sti-angely — so unmeaningly. I had rather 
That thou would'st weep, than look so wildly joyful. 

Faz. Ay, and a glorious banquet it shall be : 
Gay sei'vants in as proud caparisons, 
As though they served immortal gods with nectar. 
Ay, ay, Bianca ! there shall be a princess ; 
She shall be lady of the feast. Let's see 
Your gold and crimson for your fair-hair'd beauties : — 
It shall be gold and crimson. Dost thou know 
The princess that I mean 1 — Dost thou, Bianca ? 

Bian. Nay, if thou still wilt flout me, I'll not weep : 
Thou shalt not have the pitiful bad pleasure 
Of wi'inging me to misery. I'll be cold 
And patient as a statue of my wrongs. 

Faz. I have just thought, Bianca, these black stills 
An ugly and ill-fitting furniture : 
We'll try an they are brittle. [Dashing them in pieces.) I'll 

have gilding. 
Nothing but gilding, nothing but what looks glittering : 
I'm sick of black and dingy darkness. Here, 

( Uncovering the sack,) 
Look here, Bianca, here's a light! "Take care ; 
Thine eyesight is too weak for such a blaze. 
It is not daylight ; nay, it is not mom — 

X,* 



Ig FAZIO [Act II. 

And every one s worth a r'.ousancl florins. 
Who shall be princess of the feast to-morrow ] 

[S7ie bursts into tears. 
Within, witliin, I'll tell thee all ^vithin. [Exeunt i.. 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II. 
SCENE I.— .4 Ball in the Palace of Fazio. 
Enter Falsetto, Dandolo, Phtlario, and a Gentle- 



man. 



Fal. Serve ye lord Fazio 1 

Gent. Ay, sir, he honours me 

With his commands. 

Pal. 'Tis a brave gentleman ! 

Tell him Signior Falsetto, and Philario 
The most renowned Improvisatore, 
And Signior Dandolo, the court fashionist, 
Present their duty to him. 

Gent. Ay, good sirs. 

{Aside.) My master hath a Midas touch ; these fellows 
Will try if he hath ears like that great king. [Exit L. 

E?ifer Fazio, splendidly dressed, l. 
Fal. (r. c.) Most noble lord, most \Yonderful philosopher ! 
We come to thank thee, sir, that thou dost honour 
Our Florence with the sunlight of your fame. 
Thou that hast ravish'd nature of a secri^t 
That maketh thee her very paragon : 
She can but create gold, and so canst thou : 
But she doth bury it in mire and murk. 
Within the unsunn'd bowels of the earth ; 
But thou dost set it on the face of the wox'ld, 
Making it shame its old and sullen darkness. 



ScEire I.] 



FAZIO. 19 



Faz. (c,) Fair sir, this cataract of courtesy 
O'ervvhelms my weak and unhabituate ears. 
If I may veiiti're such uncivil ignorance, 
Your quality ? 

Fal. I, my good lord, am one 

Have such keen eyesight for my neighbour's virtues, 
And such a doting love for excellence, 
That when I see a wise man, or a noble, 
Or wealthy, as I ever hold it j>ity 
Man should be blind to his own merits, words 
Slide from my lips ; and I do mirror him 
In the clear glass of my poor eloquence. 

Faz. In coarse and honest phraseology, 
A flatterer. 

Fal. Flatterer ! Nay, the word's grown gross. 

An apt discourser upon things of honour, 
Professor of art panegyrical. 
'Twere ill, were I a hawk, to see such bravery, 
And not a thrush to sing of it. Wealth, sir, 
Wealth is the robe and outward garb of man, 
The setting to the rarer jewelry, 
The soul's unseen and inner qualities. 
And then, my lord, philosophy ! 'tis that, 
The stamp and impress of our divine nature, 
By which we know that we are gods, and are so. 
But wealth and wisdom in one spacious breast ! 
Who would not hymn so rare and rich a wedding ? 
Who would not serve vsdthin the gorgeous palace. 
Glorified by such strange and admired inmates ? 

Faz. (aside.) Now the poor honest Fazio had disdain'd 
Such scurvy fellowship ; howbeit. Lord Fazio 
Must lacquey his new state with these base jackalls. 
(To him) Fair sir, you'll honour me with your company. 
( To Dan.) May I make bold, sir, with your state and title ? 

Dan. Oh, my lord, by the falling of your robe. 
Your cloth of gold one whole hair's-breadth too low, 
'Tis manifest you know not Signior Dandolo. 

Faz. A pitiable lack of knowledge, sir. 

Dan, My lord, thou hast before thee in thy presence 
The mirror of the court, the very calendar 
That rubles the swift revolving round of fashion ; 



90 FAZIO 



Act 11 



Doth tell what hues do suit what height o' the sun ; 
When your spring pinks should banish from the court 
Your sober winter browns ; when July heat 
Doth authorize the gay and flaunting yellows ; — 
The court thermometer, that doth command 
Your three-piled velvet abdicate its state 
For the airy satins. Oh, my lord, you are too late, 
At least three days, with your Venetian tissue. 

Faz. I sori'ow, sir, to merit your rebuke 
On point so weighty. 

Dan. Ay, signior, I'm paramount 
In all affairs of boot, and spur, and hose ; 
In matters of the robe and cap, supreme ; 
In ruff disputes, my lord, there's no appeal 
From my irrefragil3ility, 

Faz. Sweet sir, 

I fear me, such despotic rule and sway 
Over the persons of our citizens 
Must be of danger to our state of Florence. 

Dan. Good sooth, my lord, I am a very tyrant. 
Why, if a senator should presume to wear 
A cloak of fur in June, I should indict him 
Guilty of leze-majeste against my kingship : 
They call me Dandolo, the King of Fashions — 
The whole empire of dress is my dominion. 
Why, if our Duke should wear an ill-grain'd colour 
Against my positive enactment, tliovigh 
His state might shield him from the jjalpable shame 
Of a rebuke, yet, my good lord, opinion, 
•Public opinion, would hold signior Dandolo 
Merciful in his silence. 

Faz. A Lycurgus ! 

Dan. Good, my lord ! dignity must be upheld 
On the strong pillars of severity. 
Your cap, my lord, a little to the north-east, 
And your sword — thus, my lord — pointed out this way, 

[Adjusfing him. 
In an equilateral triangle. Nay, 
Nay, on my credit, my good lord, this hose 
Is a fair woof. The ladies, sir, the ladies, 
(For I foresee you'll be a ruling planet,) 



ScEinl,] FAZIO. 2i 

Must not be taught any heretical fancies, 
Fantastical infringements of my codes — 
Your lordship must give place to Signior Dandolo 
About their persons. 

Faz. Gentle sir, the ladies 

Must be too deeply, iiTesistibly yours. 

Dan. (r. c.) No, signioi-, no; I'm not one of the gallants, 
That pine for a fair lip, or eye, or cheek. 
Or that poetical treasure, a true heart. 
But, my lord, a fair-ordered head-dress makes rae 
As love-sick as a dove at mating-time ; 
A tasteful slipper is ray soul's delight : 
Oh, I adore a robe that drops and floats , 
As it were lighter than the air around it ; 
I doat upon a stomacher to distraction. 
When the gay jewels, gracefully dispos'd, 
Make it a zone of stars : and then a fan. 
The elegant motion of a fan is murder. 
Positive murder to my poor weak senses. 

Faz. ( c. turning to Philario. ) But here's a third : the 
improvisatore. 
Gentle Philario, lurks, methinks, behind. 

PJiil. ( L. c. ) Most noble lord ! it wei'e his loftiest boast 
To wed your honours to his harp. To hymn 
The finder of the philosophic stone, 
The sovereign prince of alchymists ; 'twould make 
The cold verse-mechanist, the nice balancer 
Of curious words and fair compacted phrases, 
Burst to a liquid and melodious flow, 
Rapturous and ravishing but in praise of thee ! 
But I, my lord, that have the fluent vein 
The rapid rush — 

Faz. Fie, sir ! Oh fie ! 'tis fulsome. 
Sir, there's a soil fit for that rank weed flattery 
To trail its poisonous and obscene clusters : 
A poet's soul should bear a richer fruitage — 
The aconite grew not in Eden. Thou, 
That thou, with lips tipt with the fire of heaven, 
Th' excursive eye, that in its earth-wide range 
Drinks in the gi-andeur and the loveliness. 
That breathes along this high- wrought world of man ; 



22 FAZIO. t Act II. 

That hast within thee apprehensions strong 

Of all that's pui'e and passionless and heavenly — 

That thou, a vapid and a mawkish parasite, 

Should'st pipe to that witch Fortune's favourites ! 

'Tis coarse — 'tis sickly — 'tis as though the eagle 

Should spread his sail-broad wings to flap a dunghill ; 

As though a pale and withering pestilence 

Should ride the golden chariot of the sun ; 

As one should use the language of the gods 

To chatter loose and ribald brothelry. 

Phil. My lord, I thank thee for that noble chiding— 
Oh, my lord, 'tis the curse and brand of poesy, 
That it must trim its fetterless free plumes 
To the gross fancies of the humoursome age ; 
That it must stoop from its bold heights to court 
Liquorish opinion, whose aye wavering breath 
Is to it as the precious air of life. 
Oh ! in a capering, chambering, wanton land. 
The lozel's song alone gains audience, 
Fine loving ditties, sweet to sickliness ; 
The languishing and luscious touch alone 
Of all the full harp's ecstacies, can detain 
The palled and pampered ear of Italy. 
But, my lord, we have deeper mysteries 
For the initiate — Hark ! — it bursts ! — it flows ! 



Song. — Philario. 

Rich and Royal Italy ! 

Dominion's lofty bride ! 

Earth deem'd no loss of pride 
To be enslaved by thee. 
From broad Euphrates' bank. 

When the sun look'd through the gloom, 

Thy eagle's golden plume 
His orient splendour drank ; 
And when at eve he set 

Far in the chamber' d west, 

That bird of brilliance yet 
Bathed in his gorgeous rest. 



gcnrr I.] FAZIO. 23 

Sad and sunken Italy ! 

The plunderer's common prey! 

When saw the eye of day 
So very a slave as thee 1 
Long, long a bloody stage 

For petty Idnglings tame, 

Their miserable game 
Of puny Avar to wage. 
Or from the northern star 

Come haughty despots down, 

V- . h iron hand to share 
Thy tiruised and broken crown ? 
Fair and fervid Italy ! 

Lady of each gentler art, 

Yet couldst thou lead the heart 
In mild captivity. 
Wai'm Raphael's Virgin sprung 

To worship and to love ; 

The enamour'd ah' above 
Rich clouds of music hung. 
Thy poets bold and free 

Did noble wi-ong to time, 
In their high rhymed majesty 

Ravishing thy clime. 

Loose and languid Italy ! 

Where now the magic power. 

That in thy doleful hour 
Made a queen of thee 1 
The pencil cold and dead, 

whose lightest touch was life ; 

The old immortal strife 
Of thy high poets fled. 
From her inglorious urn 

Will Italy arise 1 
Will golden days return 

'Neath the azure of her skies t 

This is done, oh ! this is done. 
When the broken land is one ; 
This shall be, oh ! this shall be, 
When the slavish land is free 1 



24 FAZIO. 



[Act II. 



Scene II. — The Public Walks ofFlc/rence. 

Enter Fazio, Falsetto, Dandolo, and Philario, r. 

Fal. (l. c.) Yonder, my lord, is the lady Aldabella, 
The star of admiration to all Florence. 

Dan. (c.) There, my lord, there is a fair drooping robe- 
Would that I were a bi-eath of wind to float it ! 

Faz.{L.) Gentlemen, by your leave I would salute her. 
Ye '11 meet me anon in the Piazza. [Exeunt all but Faz, l. 

Faz. Now, lofty woman, we are equal now, 
And I will front thee in thy pitch of pride. 

Enter Aldabella, l. She speaks, after a salutatian on 
each side. 

Aid. (c.) Oh, thou and I, Sir, when we met of old, 
Were not so distant, nor so chill. My lord — 
I had forgot, my lord ! You dawning signiors 
Are jealous of your state : you great philosophers 
Walk not on earth ; and we poor gi-oveling beings, 
If we would win your eminent regards. 
Must meet ye i' the air. Oh ! it sits well 
This scorn, it looks so gi'ave and reverend. 

Faz. (r. c.) Is scorn, in lady Aldabella's creed, 
So monstrous and hei'etical ] 

Aid. Again, 
Treason again, a most ii'revei*ent laugh, 
A traitorous jest before so learn'd a sage ! 
But I may joy in thy good fortue, Fazio. 

Faz. In sooth, good fortune, if 'tis worth the joy, 
The haughty Lady Aldabella's joy ! 

Aid. Nay, an thou hadst not dash'd so careless off 
My bounteous offering, I had said — 

Faz. What, lady? 

Aid. Oh, naught — mere sound — mere air ! — Thou 'rt 
married, Fazio : 
And is thy bride a jewel of the first water ? 
I know thou Avilt say, ay ; 'tis an old tale. 
Thy fond lip-revel on a lady's beauties : 
Methinks I've heard thee descant upon loveliness, 
Till the full ears were drunken with sweet sounds. 



SCERX II.J FAZIO. i/6 

But never let me see her, Fazio : never ! 

Faz. And why not, lady 1 She is exqui8ite"=» 
Bashfully, humbly exquisite ; yet Florence 
May be as proud of her, as of the richeet 
That fire her with the lustre of their state. 
And why not, lady 1 

Aid. Why ! I know not why ! 
Oh, your philosopliy ! 'tis ever curious. 
Poor lady Nature must tell all, and clearly, 
To its inquisitorship. We '11 not think on 't : 
It fell fi-om me unawares ; words will start forth 
When the mind wanders. — Oh no, not because 
She's mei'ely lovely : — but we'll think no more on't. — 
Didst hear the act % 

Faz. Lady, what act 1 

Aid. The act 
Of the great Duke of Florence and his Senate, 
Entitled against turtle doves in poesy. 
Henceforth that useful bird is interdict, 
As the mild emblem of true constancy. 
There's a new word found ; 'tis pure Tuscan too ; 
Fazio's to fill the blank up, if it chime ; 
[f not, Heaven help the rhymester. 

Faz. (Apart.) With what an airy and a sparkling grace 
The language glances from her silken lips ! 
Her once-loved voice how exquisite it sounds, 
E'en like a gentle music heard in childhood ! 

Aid. Why yes, my lord, in these degenerate days 
Constancy is so rare a virtue, angels 
Come down to gaze on't : it makes the world proud. 
WTio would be one o' the many 1 Why, our Florence 
Will blaze with the miracle. 'Tis ti-ue, 'tis true : 
The odour of the rose gi'ows faint and sickly, 
And joys are finest by comparison. — 
But what is that to the majestic pride 
Of being the sole true phoenix % 

Faz. Gentle lady, 
Thou speak'st as if that smooth word constancy 
Were harsh and brassy sounding in thy ears. 

Aid. No, no, signior ; your good old-fangled virtues 
Have gloss enough for me, had it been my lot 



26 FAZIO. 



Act II 



To bo a miser's Ircasuie : if liis eyes 
Ne'er opeii'd but on me, I ne'er had wept 
At such a pleasant faithful avarice. 

Faz. Lady, there was a time when I did dream 
Of playing the miser to another treasure, 
One not less precious than thy stately self. 

Aid. Oh yes, my lord, oh yes ; the tale did run 
That thou and I did love : so ran the tale. 
That thou and I should have been wed — the tale 
Ran so, my lord — Oh memory, memory, memory ! 
It is a bitter pleasure, but 'tis pleasure. 

Faz. A pleasure, lady ! — why then cast me oft" 
Like an indifferent weed ? — with icy scorn 
Why choke the blossom that but woo'd thy sunshine 1 

Aid. Ah, what an easy robe is scorn to wear ! 
'Tis but to wrinkle up the level brow, 
To arch the pliant eye-lasli, and freeze up 
The passionless and placid orb within — 
Castelli ! oh CastelH ! 

Faz. AVlio was he, lady 'i 

Aid. One, my good lord, I loved most fondly, fatally. 

Faz. Then thou didst love 1 love, Aldabella, truly, 
Fervently, fondly ? — But what's that to me ? 

Aid. Oh yes, my loid, he was a noble gentleman ; 
Thou know'st him by his title, Conde d'Orsoa ; 
My nearest kinsman, my good uncle : — I, 
Knowing our passionate and fanciful nature. 
To his sage counsels fetter'd my wild will. 
Proud was he of me, deein'd me a fit mate 
For highest princes ; and his honest flatteries 
So pamper'd me, the fatal duteousness 
So grew upon me — Fazio, dost thou think 
My colour wither'd since we parted ? Gleam 
Mine eyes as they were wont 1 — Or doth the outside 
Still wear a. lying smooth indifference. 
While the unseen heart is haggard wan with woe 1 

Faz. Ls't possible 1 And didst thou love me, lady 1 
Though it be joy vain and unprofitable 
As is the sunshine to a dead man's eyes, 
Pleasureless from his impotence of pleasure ; 
Tell me and tnilv — 



ScEw n.] FAZIO. 27 

Aid. My grave sir confessor, 
On with thy hood and cowl. — So thou wouldst hear 
Of pining days and discontented nights ; 
Ah me's and doleful airs to my sad lute. 
Fazio, they suffer most who utter least. — 
Heaven, wnat a babbling traitor is the tongue ! — 
Would not the air freeze up such sinful sound 1 — 
Oh no, thou heard'st it not. Ah me ! and thou, 
I know, wilt surfeit the coarse common ear 
With the proud Aldabella's fall. — Betray me not ; 
Be charier of her shame than Aldabella. ee 

[Fazio falls on his knees to her. 
My lord ! my lord ! 'tis public here — no more — 
I'm staid for at my palace by the Arno. 
Farewell, my lord, farewell ! — Betray me not : — 
But never let me see her, Fazio, never. [Exit, l. 

Faz. (solus.) Love me ! — to suffering love me ! — why, 
her love 
Might draw a brazen statue from its pedestal, 
And make its yellow veins leap up with life. 
Fair Chastity, thou hast two juggling fiends 
Caballing for thy jewel : one within. 
And that's a soft and melting devil. Love ; 
Th' other without, and that's a fair rich gentleman, 
Giraldi Fazio : they're knit in a league. 
And thou, thou snowy and unsociable virtue, 
May'st lose no less a votaress from thy nunnery 
Than the most beautiful proud Aldabella. 
Had I been honest, 'twere indeed to fall ; 
But now 'tis but a step down the declivity. 
Bianca ! but Bianca ! — bear me up, 
Bear me up, in the trammels of thy fondness 
Bind thou my slippery soul. Wrong thee, Bianca % 
Nay, nay, that's deep indeed ; fathomless deep 
In the black pit of infamy and sin : 
I am not so weary yet of the upper air. 
Wrong thee, Bianca ! No, not for the earth ; 
Not for earth's brightest, not for Aldabella. Exit, r. 



28 FAZIO. 



Act II 



Scene III. — Palace of Fazio. 
Enter Fazio and Bianca, r. 

Faz. (l. c.) Dost thou love me, Bianca! 

Bian. (n. c.) There's a question 
For a philosopher ! — Why, I've answer'd it 
For two long years ; and, oh, for many more, 
It will not stick upon my hps to answer thee. 

Faz. Thou'rt in the fashion, then. The court, Bianca, 
The ladies of the court, find me a fair gentleman ; 
Ay, and a dangerous wit too, that smites smartly. 

Bian. And thou believest it all ! 

Faz. Why, if the gallants. 
The lordly and frank spii'its of the time. 
Troop around thee with gay rhymes on thy beauties, 
Tinkling their smooth and amorous flatteries, 
Shalt thou be then a solemn infidel 1 

Bian. I shall not heed them ; my poor beauty needs 
Only one flatterer. 

Faz. Ay, but they'll press on thee. 
And force their music into thy deaf ears. 
Think ye, ye should be coy, and calm, and cold 1 

Bian. Oh, no ! — I fear me a discourteous laugh 
Might be their guerdon for their lavish lying. 

Faz. But if one trip upon your lip, or wind 
Your fingers in his sportive hand, think ye 
Ye could endure it ] 

Bian. Fazio, thou wrong'st me 
With such dishonest questionings. My loid, 
There's such an awe in virtue, it can make 
The anger of a sleek smooth brow like mine 
Strike the hot libertine to dust before me. 
He'd dare to dally with a fire in his hand, 
Kiss rugged briars with his unholy lips. 
Ere with his rash assault attaint my honour. 

Faz. But if ye see me by a noble lady, 
Whispering as diough she were my shrine whereon 
I lay my odorous incense, and her beauty 
(xrow riper, richer at my cherishing praise ; 
If she lean on me with a fond round arm. 



SCBHK III-.] FAZIO. 29 

If her eye drink the light from out mine eyes, 

And if her lips drop sounds for my ear only ; 

Thou'lt arch thy moody brow, look at me gravely, 

With a pale anger on thy silent cheek. 

'Tis out of keeping, 'tis not the court fashion — 

We must forego this clinging and this clasping ; 

Be cold, and stiange, and courteous to each other ; 

And say, " How doth my lord ]" " How slept my lady ?" 

As though we dwelt at opposite ends o' the city. 

Bian. What hath distemper'd thee 1 — This is unnatural ; 
Thou could'st not talk thus in thy stedfast senses. 
Fazio, thou hast seen Aldabella ! 

Faz. Well, 
She is no basilisk — there's no death in her eyes. 

Bian. Ay, Fazio, but there is ; f?nd more than death — 
A death beyond the grave — a death of sin — 
A howling, hideous, and eternal death — 

Death the flesh shrinks from. No, thou must not see 

her ! 
Nay, I'm imperative — thou'rt mine, and shalt not. 

Faz. Shalt not ! — Dost think me a thick-blooded slave, 
To say " Amen" unto thy positive " shalt not ?" 
The hand upon a dial, only to point 
Just as your humourous ladyship choose to shine ! 

Bian. Fazio, thou sett'st a fever in my brain ; 
My very lips burn, Fazio, at the thought : 
I had rather thou wert in thy winding-sheet 
Than that bad woman's arms ; I had rather grave-worms 
Were on thy lips than that bad woman's kisses. 

Faz. Howbeit, there is no blistering in their taste : 
There is no suffocation in those arms. 

Bian. Take heed ! we are passionate ; our milk of love 
Doth turn to wormwood, and that's bitter drinking. 
The fondest are most phrenetic : where the fire 
Burnetii intensest, there the inmate pale 
Doth di'ead the broad and beaconing conflagration. 
If that ye cast us to the winds, the winds 
Will give us their unruly restless nature ; 
We whirl and whirl ; and where we settle, Fazio, 
But he that ruleth the mad vands can know. 
If ye do drive the love out of my soul, 
c* 



30 FAZIO. 



lAVTlI. 



That is its motion, being, and its life, 

There'll be a conflict strange and horrible, 

Among all fearful and ill-visioned fiends, 

For the blank void ; and their mad I'evel there 

Will make me — oh, I kno\v not what — hate thee ! — 

Oh, no ! — I could not hate thee, Fazio : 

Nay, nay, my Fazio, 'tis not come to that ; 

Mine arms, mine arms, shall say the next " shall not;" 

I'll never startle more thy peevish ears. 

But I'll speak to thee with my positive lips. 

[Kissing and dinging io Jdm. 
Faz. Oh, what a wild and wayward child am T ! — 
Like the hungry fool, that in his moody fit 
Dash'd from his lips his last delicious morsel. 
I'll see her once, Bianca, and but once ; 
And then a rich and breathing tale I'll tell her 
Of our full happiness. If she be angel, 
'Twill be a gleam of Paradise to her, 
And she'll smile at it one of those soft smiles, 
That make the air seem sunny, blithe and balmy. 

If she be devil Nay, but that's too ugly ; 

The fancy doth rebel at it, and shrink 

As from a serpent in a knot of flowei-s. 

Devil and Aldabclla ! — Fie ! — They sound 

Like nightingales and sci"eech-owls heard together. 

What ! must I still have tears to kiss away 1 — 

I will return — Good night ! — It is but once. 

See, thou'st the taste o' my lips now at our parting ; 

And when we meet again, if they be tainted, 

Thou shalt — oh no, thou shalt not, canst not hate me. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene IV. — Palace of Aldahella. 

Enter Aldabella, l. 

Aid. My dainty bird doth hover round the lure. 
And I must hood him with a skilful hand : 
Rich and renown'd, he must be in my train, 
Or Florence will turn rebel to my beauty. 

Enter Clara, Fazio behind, r. u. e. 
Oh, Clara, have you been to the Ursulines 1 



3CE!WIV.| FAZIO. 31 

What says my cousin, the kind Lady Abbess 1 

Cla. (r.) She says, my lady, that to-moirow toon 
Noviciates are admitted ; but she wonders, 
My Lady Abbess wonders, and I too 
Wonder, my lady, what can make ye fancy 
Those damp and dingy cloisters. Oh, my lady ! 
They'll make you cut oft' all this fine dark hair — 
Why, all the signiors in the court would quanel. 
And cut each other's throats for a loose hair of it. 

Aid. Ah me ! what heeds it where I linger out 
The remnant of my dark and despised life 1 — 
Clara, thou weariest me. 

Cla. Oh, but, my lady, 
I saw their dress : it was so coarse and hard-gram'd, 
I'm sure 'twould fret your ladyship's soft skin 
Like thorns and brambles ; and besides, the make on't ! — 
A vine-dresser's wife at market looks more dainty. 

Aid. Then my tears will not stain it. Oh, 'tis rich 
enough 
For lean and haggard sorrow. (Appearing to perceive 

Fazio, exit Clara, l.) Oh, my lord ! 
You're timely come to take a long farewell . 
Our convent gates are rude, and black, and ^lose : 
Our Ursuline veils of such a jealous woof. 
There must be piercing in those curious eyes. 
Would know if the skin beneath be swarth or snowy. 

Faz. (r. c.) a convent for the brilliant Aldabella 1 
The mirror of all rival loveliness. 
The harp to which all gay thoughts lightly dance, 
Mew'd in the drowsy silence of a cloister ! 

Aid. (l. c.) Oh, what regards it, if a blind man lie 
On a green lawn or on a steamy moor ! 
What heeds it to the dead and wither'd heart, 
Whose faculty of rapture is gi-own sere. 
Hath lost distinction between foul and fair, 
Whether it house in gorgeous palaces. 
Or mid wan gi'aves and dismal signs of care ! 
Oh, there's a gi'ief, so with the threads of being 
Ravelled and twined, it sickens every sense : 
Then is the swinging and monotonous bell 
Musical as the rich hai'p heaiO by moonlight ; 



32 FAZIO. 



[Act II 



Then ai'e the limbs insensible if they rest 
On the coarse pallet or the pulpy down. 

Faz. What mean ye, lady 1— thou bewilder'st me. 
What gx-ief so wanton and luxurious 
Would choose the lady Aldabella's bosom 
To pillow on ? 

Aid. Oh, my lord, untold love 

Nay, Fazio, gaze not on me so : my tongue 

Can scarcely move for the fire within my cheeks — 

It cankereth, it consumeth, untold love. 

But if it burst its secret prison-house, 

And venture on the broad and public a\v, 

It leagueth vnxh a busy fiend call'd Shame ; — 

And they both dog their game, till Misery 

Fastens upon it with a viper's fang, 

And rings its being with its venomous coil. 

Faz. Misery and thee ! — oh, 'tis unnatural ! — 
Oh, yoke thee to that thing of darkness, misery ! — 
That Ethiop, that grim Moor ! — it were to couple 
The dove and kite within one loving leash. 
It must not be ; nay, ye must be divorced. 

Aid. Ah no, my lord ! we are too deeply pledg'd. 
Dost thou remember our old poet's* legend 
Over Hell gates — " Hope comes not here V Where hope 
Comes not, is hell; and what have 1 co hope % 

Faz. What hast to hope 1 — Thou'rt strangely beautiful. 

Aid. Would'st thou leave flattery thy last ravishing 
sound 
Upon mine ears 1 — 'Tis kind, 'tis fatally kind. 

Faz. Oh, no ! we must not part, we must not part, 
I came to tell thee something : what, I know not. 
I only know one word that should have been ; 

And that Oh ! if thy skin were seam'd with wrinkles, 

If on thy cheek sat sallow hollowness. 
If thy warm voice spake shrieking, harsh, and shrill; 
But to that breathing form, those ripe round lips, 
Like a full parted cheiTy, those dark eyes, 

Rich in such dewy languors I'll not say it— — 

Nay, nay, 'tis on me now ! — Poison's at work ! 
Now listen to me, lady We must love= 



SC£HE IV.] 



FAZIO. 33 



Aid. Love ! — Ay, my lord, as far as lionesty. 

Faz. Honesty ! — 'Tis a stale and musty phrase ; 
At least at court : and why should we be traitors 
To the strong tyrant Custom 1 

Aid. My lord Fazio — 
Oh, said I mi/ lord Fazio 1 — thou'lt betray me : 
The bride — the wife — she that I mean — My lord, 
I am nor splenetic nor envious ; 
But 'tis a name I dare not trust my lips with, 

Faz. Bianca, oh, Bianca is her name ; 
The mild Bianca, the soft fond Bianca. 
Oh, to that name, e'en in the Church of God, 
I pledged a solemn faith. 

Aid. Within that Church, 
Barren and solitary my sad name 
Shall sound, when the pale nun profess'd doth wed 
That her cold bridegroom Solitude : and yet — 
Her right — ei'e she had seen you, we had lov'd. 

Faz. [Franticly, c.) Why should we dash the goblet 
from our lips. 
Because the dregs may have a smack of bitter 1 
Why should that pale and clinging consequence 
Thrust itself ever 'twixt us and our joys ? 

Aid. ( R. c. ) My lord, 'tis well our convent walls aie 
high. 
And our gates massy ; else ye raging tigers ^ 
Might rush upon us simple maids unveil'd. 

Faz. A veil ! a veil ! why, Florence will be dark 
At noon-day : or thy beauty will fire up, 
By the contagion of its own bright lustre. 
The dull dead flax to so intense a brilliance, 
'Twill look like one of those rich purple clouds 
On the pavilion of the setting sun. 

Aid. My lord, I've a poor banquet here within ; 
Will't please you taste it 1 

Faz. Ay, wine, wine ! ay, wine ! 
I'll drown thee, ttiou officious preacher, here! [Clasping 

his fore/iead. ) 
Wine, wine ! [Exeunt, r. 

ENT) OP ACT 11. 



PAZIO. [Act III. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Palace of Fazio. 
Enter Bianca, l. 

Bian. ( c. ) Not all the night, not all the long, long night, 
Not come to me ! not send to me ! not think on me ! 
Like an unrighteous and unbuiied ghost, 
I wander up and down these long arcades. 
Oh, in our old poor narrow home, if haply 
He lingered late abroad, domestic things 
Close and familiar ci'owded all around me ; 
The ticking of the clock, the flapping motion 
Of the green lattice, the grey curtain's folds. 
The hangings of the bed'myself had wrought. 
Yea, e'en his black and iron crucibles, 
Were to me as my friends. But here, oh here, 
Where all is coldly, comfortlessly costly. 
All strange, all new in uncouth gorgeousness. 
Lofty and long, a wider space for misery — 
E'en my own footsteps on these marble floors 
Are unaccustom'd, unfamiliar sounds. — 
Oh, I am here so wearily miserable, 
That I should .welcome my apostate Fazio, 
Though he wei'e fresh from Aldabella's arms. 
Her arms ! — her viper coil ! — I had forsworn 
That thought, lest he should come again and find me mad. 
And so go back again, and I not know it. 
Oh that I wei'e a child to play with toys. 
Fix my whole soul upon a cup and ball — 
Oh, any pitiful poor subterfuge, 
A moment to distract my busy spirit 
From its dark dalliance with that cursed image ! 
I have tried all : all vainly — Now, but now 
I went in to my children. Tlie first sounds 
They murmur'd in their evil-dreaming sleep 
Was a faint mimicry of the name of father. 
I could not kiss them, my lips were so hot. 
The very household sla\ os are leagued against me. 



Scene I.] FAZIO. |$ 

And do beset me with their wicked floutings, 
" Comes my lord home to night !" — and when I say, 
" I know not," their coarse pity makes Miy heart-stringa 
Throb with the agony. — 

Enter PiERO, R. 

Well, what of my lord ? 

Nay, tell it with thy lips, not with thy visage. 

Thou raven, croak it out if it be evil : 

If it be good, I'll fall and worship thee ; 

'Tis the office and the ministry of gods 

To speak good tidings to distracted spirits. 

Piero. Last night my lord did feast — 

Bian. Speak it at once — 
Where ] where ? — I'll wring it from thy lips. — Where 1 
where 1 

Pier. Lady, at the Marchesa Aldal^ella's. 

Bian. Thou liest, false slave ! 'twas at the Ducal Palace, 
'Twas at the arsenal with the officers ; 
'Twas with the old rich senator — him — him — him — 
The man with a brief name ; 'twas gaming, dicing, 
Riotously drinking. — Oh, it was not there; 
'Twas any where but there — or if it was. 
Why like a sly and creeping adder sting me 
With thy black tidings 1 — Nay, nay ; good, my friend ; 
Here's money for those harsh intemperate words. — 
But he's not there : 'twas some one of the gallants, 
With dress and stature like my Fazio. 
Thou wert mistaken : — no, no ; 'twas not Fazio. 

Piero. It grieves me much ; but, lady, 'tis my fear 
Thou'lt find it but too tiiie. 

Bian. Hence ! hence ! — A vaunt, 
With thy cold courteous face ! Thou seest I'm wretched 
Doth it content thee ? Graze — gaze — gaze ! — perchanco 
Ye would behold the bare and bleeding heart. 
With all its throbs, its agonies. — O Fazio ! 
O Fazio ! Is her smile more sweet than mine ! 
Oi her soul fonder 1 — Fazio, my lord Fazio ! 
Before the face of man, mine own, mine only ; 
Before the face of Heaven Bianca's Fazio, 
Not Aldabella's. — Ah that I should live 



36 FAZIO. [Act in 

To question it ! — Now henceforth all our joys, 

Our delicate endearments, all are poison'd. 

Ay ! if he speak my name with his fond voice, 

It will be with the same tone that to her 

He murmured hers : — it will be, or 'twill seem so. 

If he embrace me, 'twill be with those arms 

In which he folded her : and if he kiss me, 

He'll pause, and think whicli of the two is sweeter. 

Piero. Nay, good my lady, give not entertainment 
To such sick fancies : think on lighter matters. 
I heard strange news abroad ; the Duke's in council. 
Debating on the death of old Bartolo, 
The grey lean usurer. He's been long abroad, 
And died, they think. 

Bian. Well, sir, and what of that ] 
And have I not the privilege of sorrow, 
Without a menial's staring eye upon me ? 
Who sent thee thus to charter my free thoughts, 
And tell them where to shnnk, and where to pause ? 
Officious slave, away ! — (Exit.) — Ha ! what saidst th;>u ? 
Bartolo's death ! and the Duke in his council ! — 
I'll rend him from her, though she wind around him, 
Like the vine round the elm. I'll pluck him off. 
Though the life crack at parting. — No, no pause ; 
For if there be, I shall be tame and timorous : 
That milk-faced mercy will come whimpering to me. 
And I shall sit and meekly, miserably 
Weep o'er my wrongs. — Ha ! that her soul were fond 
And fervent as mine own ! I would give worlds 
To see her as he's rent and torn from her. 
Oh, but she's cold ; she cannot, will not feel. 
It is but half revenge — her whole of sorrow 
Will be a drop to my consummate agony. — 
Away, away : oh, had I wings to waft me ! [Eodt^ B. 

Scene II. — Couyicil Chamber. 

Tlie Duke and his council discovered. 

Duke, (o.) 'Tis passing strange, a man of such lean habits, 
Wealth flowing to him in a st^eady cinTent, 
Whids wafting it unto him from all quarters, 



Scene II.] FAZIO. 37 

Through all his seventy toilsome years of life, 
And yet his treasury so spare and meagre. 
Signior Gonsalvo, were the voice that told us 
Less tried and trusty than thir.e own, our faith 
Would be a rebel to such marvellous fact. 

Gon. (r. c.) Well may your Highness misdoubt me, 
myself 
Almost misdoubting mine owti positive senses. 
No sign was there of outward violence, 
All in a state of orderly misery, 
No trace of secret inroad ; yet, my liege, 
The mountains of his wealth were puny molehills, 
A few stray ducats ; piles indeed of parchments, 
Mortgages, deeds, and lawsuits heaped to the roof, 
Enough to serve the armies of all Tuscany 
At least for half a centuiy with new drumheads, 

Aurio. (l. c.) Haply, my liege, he may have gone abroad, 
And borne his riches with him. 

Duke. Signior Aurio, 
That surmise flavours not of your known wisdom. 
His argosies encumber all our ports, 
His unsold bales rot on the crowded wharfs ; 
The interest of a hundred usuries 
Lieth unclaim'd. — Besides, he hath not left 
Our city for this twenty years : — a flight 
So unprepared and wanton suits not well 
Your slow and heavy-laden usurer. 

Enter Antonio, r. 

Anto. My liege, a lady in the antechamber 
Boasts knowledge that concerns your this day's council. 
Duke. Admit lib. 

Enter Bianca, r. 

How ! what know'st thou of the death 
Of old Bartolo 1 — be he dead, in sooth '? . 
Or of his riches 1 

Bia7i. The ea,st side o' the fountain. 
In the small garden of a lowly nouse 
By the Franciscan convent, the green herbs 
Grow boon and freely, the manure is rich 
Around their roots : dig there, and you'll be wisei. 

D 



38 FAZIO. r^c, m. 

Duke. Who tenanted this house 1 

Bian. Giraldi Fazio. 

DuJce. What of his wealth 1 

Bian. There's one in Florence knows 
More secrets than beseems an honest man. 

Dulce. And who is he ? 

Bian. Giraldi Fazio. 

Gon. My liege, I know him : 'tis the new sprung 
signior, 
This gi-eat philosopher. I ever doubted 
His vaunted manufactory of gold, 
Work'd by some strange machinery. 

Duke. Theodore, 
Search thou the garden that this woman speaks of. 
Captain Antonio, be't thy charge to attach 
With speed the person of this Fazio. 

Bian. ( RusJnng fonvard to Anto.J You'll find him a' 
the Marchesa Aldabella's : 
Bring him away — no mercy — no delay — 
Nay, not an instant — not time for a kiss, 
A parting kiss. {Aside.) Now come what will, 
Their curst entwining arms are riven asunder. 

Duke. And thou, thou peremptory summoner ! 
Most thirsty after justice ! speak ! Thy name ? 

Bian. Bianca. 

Duke. Thy estate, wedded or single % 

Bian. My lord 

Duke. Give instant answer to the court, 

Bian. Oh, wedded, but most miserably single. 

Duke. Woman, thou palterest with our digi:ity. 
Thy husband's name and quality 1 — Why shakest thou 
And draw'st the veil along thy moody brow, 
As thou too wert a murderess ? — Speak, and quickly, 

Bian. ' (Faltering. J Giraldi Fazio. 

Duke. 'Tis thy husband, then — 
Woman, take heed, if, petulant and rash. 
Thou would'st abuse the righteous sword of law. 
That brightest in the ai-moury of man. 
To a peevish instrument of thy light passions, 
Or furtherance of some close and secret guilt : 
Take heed, 'ti> in the heaven-stamp'd roll of sins, 



SCKWE II.] 



FAZIO. 39 



To bear false witness Oh, but 'gainst thy husband, 

Thy bosom's lord, flesh of thy flesh ! — To set 

The blood-hounds of the law upon his track ! 

[f thou speak'st true, stern justice will but blush 

To be so cheer'd upon her guilty prey. 

If it be false, thou givest to flagi-ant sin 

A heinous immortality. This deed 

Will chronicle thee, woman, to all ages, 

In human guilt a portent and an era : 

'Tis of those crimes, whose eminent fame Hell joys at ; 

And the celestial angels, that look on it. 

Wish their keen airy vision dim and nari'ow. 

Enter Theodore, r. 

Tkeo. My liege, e'en where she said, an unstripp'd 
corpse 
Lay carelessly inearth'd ; old weeds hung on it. 
Like those that old Bartolo wont to wear ; 
And under the left rib a small stiletto, 
Rusted within the pale and creeping flesh. 

Enter Antonio with Fazio, r. 

Ant. My liege, the prisoner. 

DuJce. (c.) Thou'rt Giraldi Fazio. 
Giraldi Fazio, thou stand'st here arraign'd, 
That, with presumption impious and accurst, 
Thou hast usurp'd God's high prerogative, 
Making thy fellow mortal's life and death 
Wait on thy moody and diseased passions ; 
That with a violent and untimely steel 
Hast set abroach the blood, that should have ebb'd 
In calm and natui-al current : to sum all 
In one wild name — a name the pale air freezes at, 
And every cheek of man sinks in with horror — 
Thou ai't a cold and midnight murderer. 

Faz. (r. c.) My liege, 1 do beseech thee, argue not, 
From the thick clogging >f my clammy lireath. 
Aught but a natural and instinctive dread 
Of such a bloody and ill-sounding title. 
My liege I do beseech thee, whate'er reptile 



40 ' FAZIO. [Act 111 

Hath cast this fikhy slime of slander on rae, 
Set him before me face to face : the fire 
Of my just auger shall burn up his heart, 
Make his lip drop, and powerless shuddering 
Creep o'er his noisome and corrupted limbs, 
Till the gross lie choak in his wretched throat. 

Duke. Thou'rt bold. — But know ye aught of old Bartolo t 
Methlnks, for innocence, thou'rt pale and tremulous — 
That name is to thee as a thunderclap ; 

But thou shall have thy wish Woman, stand forth : 

Nay, cast away thy veil. Look on her, Fazio. 

Faz. Bianca ! — No, it is a horrid vision ! 
And, if I struggle, 1 shall wake, and find it 
A miscreated mockery of the brain. 
If thou'rt a fiend, what hellish right hast thou 
To shroud thy leprous and fire-seamed visage 
In lovely lineaments, like my Bianca's 1 
If thou'rt indeed Bianca, thou wilt weai 
A ring I gave thee at our wedding time. 
In God's name do I bid thee hold it up; 
And, if thou dost, I'll be a murderer, 
A slaughterer of whole hecatombs of men, 
So ye will rid me of the hideous sight. 

Duke. Giraldi Fazio, hear the court's award : 
First, on thy evil-gotten wealth the State 
Setteth her solemn seal of confiscation ; 
And for thyself 

Bian. ( Rushing forward to c.J Oh, we'll be poor again. 
Oh, I forgive thee ! — We'll bo poor and happy ! 
So happy, the dull day shall be too short for us. 
She loved thee, that proud woman, for thy riches ; 
But thou canst tell why I love Fazio. 

Duke. And for thyself — 'Tis in the'code of Heaven, 
Blood will have blood — the slayer for the slain. 
Death is thy doom — the public, daylight death : 
Thy body do we give vmto the wheel : 
The Lord have mercy on thy sinful soul ! 

Bian. Death! — Death! — I meant not that! Y3 

mean not that ! 
Wliat's all this vvaste and idle talk of murther 1 
He slay a man — w'.th tender hands like his 1 — 



ScEKiII.] FAZIO. 4 

VVitli delicate mild soul 1 Why, his own blood 

Had startled him ! I've seen him pale and shuddering 

At the sad writhings of a trampled worm : 

I've seen him brush off with a dainty hand 

A bee that stung him. — Oh, why wear ye thus 

The garb and outward sanctity of law 1 

What means that snov/ upon your reverend brows, 

If that ye have noksubtler apprehension 

Of some inherent Irarmony in the nature 

Of bloody crimina^and bloody crime 1 

'Twere wise t' an-aign the soft and silly lamb 

Of slaughtering, his butcher : ye might make it 

As proper a murderer aV«.iaj^_5|?iO' 

Duke. Woman, th' irrevocabl^breath of justice 
Wavers not : he must die. 

Bian. Die ! Fazio die ! 

Ye grey and solemn murderers by chj 

Ye ermined manslayers ! when the taje' _ 

With blood and guilt, and deep and daiiniing J oh, 

Ye suck it in with cold insatiate thirst 

But to the plea of mercy ye are stones, 

As deaf and hollow as the unbowell'd winds. 

Oh, ye smooth Christians in your tones and looks. 

But in your heats "s savage v. the tawny 

And misbelieving African ! ye profane. 

Who say, "God bless him! God deliver him!" 

While ye are beckoning for the bloody axe. 

To smite the uni/ffending head ! — His head ! 

My Fazio's head ! — the head this bosom cherished 

With its first virgin fondness. 

JDuke. Fazio, hear ; 
To-morrow's morning sun shall dawn upon thee : 
But when he setteth ia his western couch, 
He finds thy place in this world void and vacant. 

Bian. To morrow morning ! — Not to-morrow raoruing! 
The damning devils give a forced faint pause, 
If the bad soul but feebly catch at heaven. 
But ye, but ye, unshriven, unreconciled, 
With all its ponderous mass of sins, hurl down 
The bare and shivering spirit. — Oh, not to-morrow ! 
Duke. Woman, thou dost out >tep all modesty : 



42 FAZIO. [Act HI 

But for strong circumstance, that leagues with tnee, 
We should contemn thee for a wild mad woman, 
Raving her wayward and unsettled fancies. 

Bian. Mad ! mad ! — ay, that it is ! ay, that it is ! 
Is't to be mad to speak, ic move, to gaze, 
But not to know how, or why, or whence, or where ? 
To see that there are faces all around me, 
Floating within a dim discolour'd haze} 
Yet have distinction, vision but for one 1 
To speak with rapid and continuous flow, 
Yet know not how the unthought words start from me ? 
Oh, I am mad, wildly, intensely mad. 
'Twas but last night the^ggoon was at the full ; 
And ye, and ye, the sovOTeign and the sage, 
The wisdom and the reverence of all Florence, 
E'en from a maniac's dim disjointed tale. 
Do calml«^^ud^ away the innocent life. 
The holy^uftna^ life, the life God gave him. 

Duke. (^.) Giraldi Fazio, hast thou aught to plead 
Against the law, that with imperious hand 
Grasps at thy forfeit life ] 

Faz. (r. c.) My liege, this soul 
Rebels not, nay, repines not at thy sentence ; 
Yet, oil ! by all on earth, by all hereafter. 
All that hath cognizance o'er unseen deeds, 
Blood is a colour stranger to these hands. 
But there are crimes within me, deep and black, 
That with their clamorous and tumultuous voices 
Shout at me, " Thou should'st die, thy sins are deadly ,* 
Nor dare my oppressed heart return, " 'Tis false." 

Bian. (l. c.) But I, I say, 'tis false : he is not guilty : 
Not guilty unto death : I say he is not. 
God gave ye hearing, but ye will not hear; 
God gave ye feeling, but ye will not feel ; 
God gave ye judgment, but ye falsely judge. 

Duke. Captain Antonio, guard thy prisoner. 
If it be true, blood is not on thy soul. 
Yet thou objectest not to the charge of robbery ? 

[Fa7^o hows. 
Thou dost not. Robbery, bj the the laws of FK»rence, 
Is sternly coded as a deadly ( rime : 



SciafB II.] FAZIO. 49 

Therefore, I say again, Giraldi Fazio, 
The Lord have mercy on thy sinful s .ul ! 

[ Tkey follow the Duke. 
Bian. {Seizing and detaining Aurio.) 
My lord ! my lord ! we have two babes at home — 
They cannot speak yet ; but your name, my lord, 
A.nd they shall lisp it, ere they lisp mine own — 
Ere that poor culprit's yonder, their own father's 
Befriend us, oh ! befriend us ! 'Tis a title 
fleaven joys at, and the haixl and savage earth 
Doth break its sullen nature to delight in — 

The destitute's sole friend And thou j^ass too! 

Why, what a common liar was tlw face. 

That said the milk of mercy flowed within thee ! 

^e're all alike.— Off ! Off !— Ye're all alike. 

\Exciint all but Fazio, tJie Officer, and Bianca, n. 

Bian. [Crccjnng toYwAO.) '* . , 

Thou wilt not spurn me, wilt not trample on me, 
Wilt let me touch thee — I, whose lips have slain thee ? 
Oh, look not on me thus with that fond look — 
Pamper me not, for long and living grief 
To prey upon — O, curse me, Fazio — 
Kill me wdth cursing : I am thin and feeble — 
A word will crush me — any thing but kindness. 

Faz. Mine own Bianca ! I shall need too much mercy 
Or ere to-moiTOw, to be merciless. • 
It was not well, Bianca, in my guilt 
To cut me off — thus early — thus unripe : 
It will be bitter, when the axe falls on me. 
To think whose voice did summon it to its ofiice. 
No more — no more of that : we all must die. 
Bianca, thou wilt love me when Pam dead : 
I wrong'd thee, but thou'lt love me when I'm dead. 

Bian. What, kiss me, kiss me, Fazio ! — 'tis too much • 
And these warm lips must be cold clay to-monow. 

Anto. Signior, we must part hence. 

Bian. What ! tear me from him ; 
When he has but a few short hours to give me . 
Rob me of them ! — He hath lain delicately : 
Thou wilt not envy me the wretched office 



44 PAzio. 



[Act III 



Of stre\\nng the last pillow he shall lie on — 

Thou wilt not — ^nay, there's moisture in thine eye— 

Thou wilt not. 

Anto. Lady, far as is the warrant 
Of my stern orders — 

Bian. Excellent youth ! Heaven thank thee ! 
There's not another heart like thine in Florence. 
We sliall not part, we shall not part, my Fazio ! 
Oh, never, never, never — till to-morrow. 

Faz. (As lie leads her out.) 
It was not with this cold and shaking hand 
I led thee virgin to the bridal altar. [Exeunt^ B> 



ACT IV. 
Scene I. — A prison. 

Fazio and Bianca, discovered. 

Faz. (l. c.) Let's talk of joy, Bianca : we'll deceive 
This present and this future, whose grim faces 
Stare at us with such deep and hideous blackness : 
We'll fly to the past. Dost thou remembei", \o\Pi, 
Those gentle moonlights, when my fond guitar 
Was regular, as convent vesper hymn. 
Beneath thy lattice, sometimes the light dawn 
Came stealing on our voiceless intercourse. 
Soft in its grey and filmy atmosphere 1 

Bian. (c.) Oh yes, oh yes ! — There '11 be a dawn t«» 
morrow 
Will steal upon us. — Then, oh then — 

Faz. Oh, thhik not ou't ! — 
And thou remember'st too that beauteous evening 
TIpon the Arno ; how we sail'd along. 
And laugh'd to see the stately towers of Florence 
Waver and dance in the blue depth beneath us. 
How carelessly thy unretiiiDg hand 
Abandon'd its soft whiteness to my pressure ? 



SCEKE l.J FAZIO. 45 

Bian. Oh yes ! To-morrow evening, if thou ciose 

Thy clasping hand, mine will not meet it then — 
Thou 'It only grasp the chill and senseless earth. 

Faz. Thou busy, sad remembrancer of evil ! 

How exquisitely happy have v/e two 
Sate in the dusky and discoloured light, 
That flicker'd throuorh our shaking- lattice bars ! 
Our children at our feet, or on our laps. 
Warm in their breathing slumbers, or at play 

With rosy laughter on their cheeks ! — Oh God ! 

Bianca, such a flash of thought cross'd o'er me, 
I dare not speak it. 

Bia7i. Quick, my Fazio ! 
Quick, let me have't — to-morrow thou 'It not speak it. 

Faz. Oh, what a life must theirs be, those poor innocents ! 
When they have grown up to a sense of soitow — 
Oh, what a feast will there be for rude misery ! 
Honest men's boys and girls, whene'er they mingle, 
Will spurn them with the black and branded title, 
"The murderer's children: " Infamy will pin 
That pestilent label on their backs ; the plague-spot 
Will bloat and blister on them till their death-beds ; 
And if they beg; — for beggars they must be — 
They'll drive them from their doors with cruel jeers 
Upon my riches, villainously style them 
" The children of Lord Fazio, the philosopher." 

Bian. To-morrow will the cry begin, — to-morrow — 
It must not be, and I sit idle here ! 
Fazio, thei'e must be in this wide, wide city, 
piercing and penetrating eyes for truth, 
Souls not too proud, too co-Id, too stern for mercy. 
I'll hunt them out, and swear them to our service. 
I'll raise up something — oh, I know not what — 
Shall boldly startle the rank air of Florence 
With proclamation of thy innocence. 
I'll raise the dead ! I'll conjure up the ghost 
Of that old rotten thing, Bartolo ; make it 
Cry out i' the market place, " Thou didst not slay hira I" 
Farewell, farewell ! If in the walls of Florence 
Be any thing like hope or comfort, Fazio, 
I'll clasp it with such strong and stedfast arms, 



46 



FAZIO. Act IV 



I'll drag it to thy dungeon, and make laugh 
This silence with strange uncouth sounds of jcy. 

Scene II. — A Street.. 

Enter Falsetto, Dandolo, Puilario, r. 

Pal. Good Signior Dandolo, here's a prodigal waste 
Of my fair speeches to the sage j^hilosopher. 
I counted on at least a two months' diet, 
Besides stray boons of horses, rings, and jewels. 

Dan. (r. c.) Oh, my Falsetto, a coat of my fashion 
Come to the wheel ! — It wrings my very heart. 
To fancy how the seams will crack, or haply 
The hangman will be seen in't ! — That I should live 
To be purveyor of the modes to a hangman ! 

Enter Bianca, l. 

Bian. They pass me by on the other side of the street ; 
They spurn me from their doors ; they load the air 
With curses that are flung on me ; the Palace, 
The Ducal Palace, that should aye be open 
To voice of the distress'd, as is God's heaven. 
Is ring'd around with grim and armed savages. 
That with their angry weapons smite me back. 
As though I came with fire in my hand, to burn 
The royal walls : the children in the streets 
Break off their noisy games to hoot at me ; 
And the dogs from the porches howl me on. 
But here's a succour. — f To Falsetto. J Oh, good sir, thy 

friend, 
The man thou feastedst with but yesterday, 
He to whose motion thou wast a true shadow, 
Whose hand rain'd gifts upon thee — he, I mean, 
Fazio, the bounteous, free, and liberal Fazio — 
He's wrongfully accused, wrongfully doom'd : 
I swear to thee 'tis wrongfully. — Oh, sir. 
An eloquent honey-dropping tongue like thine, 
How would it garnish up his innocence, 
Till Justice would grow amorous, and err.-brace it ! 

Fal. Sweet lady, thou o'ervaluest my ^oor powers :— 



so£NE n.j 



FAZIO. 47 



Any thing in reason to win so much loveUness 
To smile on me. — But this were wild and futile. 

Bian. In reason 1 — 'Tis to save a human life — 
Is not that in the spacious realm of reason ] — 
Kind sir, there's not a prayer will mount hereafter 
Heavenwai'd from us or our poor children's lips, 
But in it thy dear name will rise embalm'd : 
And prayers have power to cancel many a sin, 
That clogs and flaws our base and corrupt nature. 

Fal. Methinks, good Dandolo, 'tis the hour we owe 
Attendance at the lady Portia's toilette. — 
Any commision in our way, fair lady "? 

I)an. Oh, yes ! I'm ever indispensable there 
As is her looking glass. — 

Bian. Riotous madness ! 

To waste a breath (detaining tliem) upon such thin-blown 

bubbles ! 
Why thou didst cling to him but yesterday. 
As 'twere a danger of thy life to part from him ; 
Didst swear it was a sin in Providence 
He was not bom a prince. — ( ToDan.) And thou, sir, thou— 
Chains, sir, in May — it is a heavy wear ; 
Hard and unseemly, a rude weight of iron. — 
Faugh ! cast ye off this shape and skin of men ; 
Ye stain it, ye pollute it — ^be the I'eptiles 
Ye are. — ( To PJiil.) And thou, sir — I know in whose porch 
He hired thee to troll out thy fulsome ditties : 
I know whose dainty ears were last night banqueted 
With the false harlotry of thy rich airs. 

Phil. I do beseech thee, lady, judge me not 
So harshly. In the state. Heaven knows, I'm powerless— 
I could remove yon palace walls, as soon 
As alter his sad doom. But if to visit him. 
To tend him with a soft officious zeal. 
Waft the mild magic of mine art around him. 
Making the chill and lazy dungeon air 
More smooth, more gentle to the trammell'd breathing : — 
All that I can I will, to make his misery 
Slide fi'om him light and airily. 

Bian. Wilt thou I 

Why then there's hope the devil hath not all Florence. 



48 FAZIO, 



[Act IV 



Go— go ! — I cannot point thoe out the way : 

Mine eyes are cloudy ; it is the first rain 

Hath dew'd tliem, since — since \vlien I cannot tell thee.— - 

Gro — go ! — [Exeunt PhUario and Dandolo^ i., 

One effort more — and if I fail 

But by the inbred and instin(.tive tenderness 

That mingles with the life of womanhood. 

I cannot fail — and then, thou grim to-monow, 

I'll meet thee with a bold and uublench'd front. [Exit, l 

Scene III. — Palace of AldabeUa. 

Eyiter Aldabella, r. 

Aid. ^R. c.) Fazio in prison ! Fazio doom'd to die !— 
I was too hasty ; should have fled, and bashfully 
Beckoned him after ; lured him, not seized on him. 
Proud Aldabella a poor robber's paramour ! 
Oh, it sounds dismal ! Florence must not hear it. — 
And sooth, his time is biief to descant on it. — 

Enter Bianca, l. 

And who art thou, thus usherless and unbidden 
Scarest my privacy ? 

Bian. f Aside, l. c.J I must not speak yet ; 
For if I do, a curse will clog my utterance. 

Aid. Nay, stand not with thy pale lips quivering notk« 
ings— 
Speak out, and freely. 

Bian. Tjady, there is one — 

Fie, fie upon this choking in my throat — 
One thou didst love, — Griraldi Fazio ; — 
One who loved thee, — Giraldi Fazio. — 
He's doom'd to die, to die 'ic»-mon-ow m.orning ; 
And lo, 'tis eve already ! — 

Aid. He is doom'd 1 — 

Why, then, the man must die. — 

Bian. Nay, gentle lady 

Thou'rt high-born, rich, and beautiful : the princ©« 
The prime of Florence wait upon thy smiles, 
l/ike sunflowers on the golden light they love 



SC-ENE III.] FAZIO- 49 

Thy lips have such sweet melody, 'tis hung upon 
Till silence is an agony. Did it plead 
For one condemn'd, but oh, most innocent, 
'Twould be a music th' air would fall in love with, 
And never let it die till it had won 
Its honest purpose. 

Aid. What a wanton waste 
Of idle praise is here ! 

Bian. Nay think, oh think, 
What 'tis to give again a forfeit life : 
Ay, such a life as Fazio's ! — Frown not on me : 
Thou think'st that he's a murderer — 'tis all false ; 
A trick of Fortune, fancifully cruel. 
To cheat the world of sucli a life as Fazio's. 

Aid. Frivolous and weaTi; : I could not if I would. 

Bian. Nay, but I'll lure thee with so rich a boon — 
Hear — ^hear, and thou art won. If thou dost save him, 
It is but just he should be savec^for thee. 
I give him thee — Bianca — I, his wife — 
I pardon all that has been, all that may be — 
Oh, I will be thy handmaid ; be so patient — 
Calmly, contentedly, and sadly patient — 
And if ye see a pale or envious motion 
Upon my cheek, a quivering on my lips, 
Like to complaint — then strike him dead before me. 
Thou shalt enjoy all — all that I enjoy'd : — 
His love, his life, his sense, his soul be thine ; 
And I will bless thee, in my misery bless thee. 

Aid. What mist is on thy wild and wandering eyes ? 
Know'st thou to whom and where thou play'st the raver 1 
I, Aldabella, whom the amorous homage 
Of rival lords and princes stirs no more, 
Than the light passing of the common air — 
I, Aldabella, when my voice might make 
Thz'ones render up their stateliest to my service — 
Stoop to the sordid sweepings of a prison 1 

Bian. Proud-lipped warnan, earth's most gorgeous sov- 
ereigns 
Were worthless of my Fazio ! Foolish woman, 
Thou cast'st a jewel off! The pi'oudest lord 



50 FAZIO. 



Act IV 



That ever revell'd in thy unchaste antis 
Was a swarth galley-slave to Fazio. 
Ah me ! ah me ! e'en I, his lawful wife, 
Know't not more truly, certainly than thou.— 
Hadst thou loved him. I had pardon'd, pitied thee : 
We two had sate, all coldly, palely sad ; 
Dropping, like statues on a fountain side, 
A pure, a silent, and eternal dew. 
Hadst thou outwejit me, I had loved thee for't — 
And that were easy, for I'm stony here. [Putting her /lanil 

to lur eyes.\ 

Aid. Ho there ! to th' hospital for the lunatics ! 
Fetch succour for this poor distraught — 

Bian. What said I % 
Oh pardon me, I came not to upbraid thee — 
Thiidv, think — I'll whisper it, I'll not betray thee : 
The air's a tell-tale, and the -walls are listeners ; — 
Think what a change ! T^^st night within thy chamber ; 
(I'll not say in^thy arms; for that displeases thee. 
And sickens me to'utt'er,) and to-night 
Upon a prison pallet, straw, hard straw ; 
For eastern perfumes, the rank noisome air ; 
For gentle harpings, shrilly clanking chains ; — 
Nay, tui'n not off: the worst is yet to come. 
To-morrow at his waking, for thy face 
Languidly, lovingly down drooping o'er him, 
The scarr'd and haggard executioner ! 

Aid. ( Turning uicaij.) There is a dizzy trembling ii. 
mine eye ; 
But I must dry the foolish dew for shame. 
Well, what is it to me ? I slew him not : 
Nay, nor denounced him to the judgment-seat. 
I out debase myself to lend free hearing 
To such coarse fancies. — I must hence to-night 
I feast the lords of Florence. \Exit, r 

Bian. They're all lies : 
Things done with in some far and distant planet, 
Or offscum of some dieamy poet's brain. 
All tales of human goodness ! Or they're legends 
Left us of some good old forgotten time. 
Ere harlotry became a queenly sin. 



GCENE IV.] 



FAZIO. 61 



And housed in palaces. Oh, earth's so crowded 

With Vice, that if strauge Virtue stray abroad, 

They hoot it from them like a thing accurst. 

Fazio, my Fazio ! — but we'll laugh at them : 

We will not stay upon their wicked soil, 

E'en though they sue us not to die and leave them. [Exit i,. 

Scene IV. — Fazio's House. 
Enter BiANCA, l. 

Bian. (c.) Ah, what a fierce and frantic coil is here, 
Because the sun must shine on one man less ! 
I'm sick and weary — my feet drag along. 
Why must I trail, like a scotch'd serpent, hither ] 
Here to this house, where all thin^ bi"eathe of Fazio 1 
The air tastes of him — the walls^^isper of him.* — 
Oh, I'll to bed ! to 1 1||p ^^'nffl find I there ? 
Fazio, my fond, my gentle, fervent Fa!fei(f ? 

No ! Cold stones are his couch, harsh iron bars 

Curtain his slumbers — oh, no, no, — I have it — 

He is in Aldabella's arms. Out on't ! 

Fie, fie ! — that's rank, that's noisome ! — I remember— 

Our children — ay, my children — Fazio's children. 

'Twas my thoughts' burthen as I came along. 

Were it not wise to bear them off with us 

Away from this cold world ! — Why should we breed up 

More sinners for the Devil to prey upon 1 

There's one a boy — some strumpet will enlace hira, 

And make him wear her loathsome livery. 

The other a girl : if she be ill, she'll sink 

Spotted to death — she'll be an Aldabella : 

If she be chaste, she'll be a wretch like me, 

A jealous wretch, a frantic guilty wretch. 

No, no : they must not live, they must not live ! 

[Exit into a hack chamber, i., d. f. After a pause she returns. 

It will not be, it will not be — they woke 
As though e'en in their sleep they felt my presence ; 
And then they smiled upon me fondly, playfully, 
And stretch'd then- rosy fingers to sport with me : 



52 FAZIO. 



[ActV. 



The boy did arch his eyebrows so hke Fazio, 

Though my soul wish'd that God would take them to "nim, 

That they were 'scaped this miserable world, 

I could but kiss them ; and, when I had kissed them, 

I could as soon have leap'd up to the inoon, 

As speck'd or soil'd their alabaster skins. — 

Wild that I am ! — Take them t' another world — 

As though I, I, my husband's murderess, 

In the dread separation of the dead. 

Should meet again those spotless iimocenls ! 

Oh, happy they ! — they will but know to-mon'ow 

By the renewal of the soft warm daylight. [Exit, R 

END OF ACT IV. 




Scene I. — A StreeU — Morning Twilighi. 

Enter Bianca. 

Bian. Where have I been ? — I have not been at rest,- 
There's yet the stir of motion in my limbs. 
Oh, I remember — 'twas a hideous strife 
Within my brain : — I felt that all was hopeless. 
Yet would not credit it ; and I set forth 
To tell my Fazio so, and dared not front him 
With such cold comfoit. Then a 7nist came o'er me. 
And something drove me on, and on, and on. 
Street after street, each blacker than the other. 
And a blue axe did shimmer through the gloom — 
Its fiery edge did waver to and fro — 
And there were infants' voices, faint and wailing, 
That panted after me. I knew I fled them ; 
Yet could not choose but fly. And then, oh, then, 
I gazed and gazed upon the starless darkness. 
And blest it in my soul, for it was deeply 
And beautifully black — no speck of light ! 



Scene I.j 



FAZIO. 53 



And I had feverish and fantastic hopes 
That it would last for ever, nor give place 

To th' horrible to-morroiv. Ha, 'tis there ! 

'Tis the grey moniing light aches in mine eyed — 

It is that morroio ! Ho ! — Look out ! look out ! 

With what a hateful and unwonted swiftness 

It scai'es my comfortable darkness from me ! 

Fool that I am ! I 've lost the few brief hours 

Yet left me of my Fazio ! — Oh, away. 

Away to him ! — away ! VExit. 

Scene II. — The Prisoyi — totally dark, except a lamp. 
Fazio and, Philario. 

Faz. I thank thee : 'twas a melancholy hymn, 
But soft and soothing as the gale of eve. 
The gale whose flower-sweet breath no more shall pass 

o'er me. 
Oh, what a gentle ministrant is music 
To piety — to mild, to peniteiit piety ! 
Oh, it gives plumage to the tardy prayer 
That lingers in our lazy earthly air, w 

And melts with it to heaven. To die : 'tis dreary ; 

To die a villain's death, that's yet a pang. 
But it must down : I have so steep'd my soul 
In the bitter ashes of true penitence, 
That they have put on a delicious savour, 
And all is halcyon quiet, all within. 
Bianca ! — where is she % — why comes she not ? 
Yet I do almost wish her not to come. 
Lest she again enamour me of life. 

Fhil. Hast thou no charge to her, no fond bequest 1 
It shall lose little by my bearing it. 

Faz. Oh yes, oh yes ! — I have her picture here : 
That I had seen it in one hour of my life, 
In Aldabella's arms had it looked on me, 
I should have had one sin less to repent of. 
I 'm loth the coarse and vulgar executioner 
Should handle i' with his foul gripe, or pas? 
His ribald jests upon it. — Give it her. 

[ With the pictiire he drakes exit some gold, on which he 
E* holes icith great apparent melancholy. 



64 FAZIO. [Act V 

PMt. And this too, sir \ 

Faz. Oh, touch it not, Philario ! 
Oh, toucli it not ! — 'tis venomous, 'tis viperous ! 
If there be bottomless sea, unfathom' i pit 
In earth's black womb — oh, plunge it, plunge it deep, 
Deep, dark ! or if a devil be abroad. 
Give it to him, to bear it whence it came. 
To its own native hell. — Oh no, no, no ! — 
He must not have it : for with it he'll betray 
More men, mbre noble spirits than Lucifer 
Drew down from heaven. This yellow pestilence 
Laid waste my Eden ; made a gaudy bird of me, 
For soft temptation's silken nets to snare. 
It crept in to us — Sin came with it — Misery 
Dogg'd its foul footsteps — ever-deep'ning Sin, 

And ever-dark'ning Misery. Philario, 

Away with it ! — away ! — ( Takes the picture.) — Here's fair- 
er gazing. 
Thou wouldst not think these smooth and smiling lips 
Could speak away a life — a husband's life. 
Yet, ah ! I led the way to sin — I wronged her : 
Yet Heaven be witaess, though I wi'onged her, loved hetf 
E'en in my heart oPheart. 

Enter Bianca, l. 

Bian. Who's that Bianca, 

That's loved so deeply 1 — Fazio, Fazio, Fazio — 
It is that morrmo ! 

Faz. Nay, look cheeringly : 
It niay be God doth punish in this world 
To spare hereafter. 

Bian. Fazio, set me loose ! — 

Thou clasp'st thy murderess. 

Faz. No, it is my love, 

My wife, my children's mother ! — Pardon me, 

Bianca ; but thy children I'll not see them : 

For on the wax of a soft infant's memory 
Things horrible sink deep, and sternly settle. 
I would not have them, in their after-days, 
Cherish the image of their wretched father 
In the cold darkness of a prison-house. 



flOEHE II.] FAZIO. 65 

Oh, if they 35k thee of their father, tell them 
That he is dead, but say not how. 

Bian. No, no — 

Not tell them, that their mother murder'd him 

Faz. But are they well, my love ? 

Bian. What, had I freed them 
From this drear villains' earth, sent them before as, 
Lest we should miss them in another world, 
And so be fetter'd by a cold regret 
Of this sad sunshine % 

Faz. Oh, thou hast not been 
So wild a rebel to the will of God ! 
If that thou hast, 'twill make my passionate arms. 
That ring thee round so fondly, drop off from thee, 
Like sere and wither'd ivy ; make my farewell 
Spolaen in such suffocate and distemper'd tone, 
'Twill sound more like 

Bian. They live ! thank God, they live ! 
I should not rack thee with such fantasies : 
But there have been such hideous things around me, 
Some whispering me, some dragging' me ; I've felt 
Not half a moment's calm since last we parted, 
So exquisite, so gentle, as this now— 
T could sleep on thy bosom, Fazio. 

Re-enter Antonio, r. 

Ant. Prisoner, 

Thine hour is come. 

Bian. It is not morning yet — 

Where is the twilight that should usher it ? 
Where is the sun, that should come golden on ? 
Ill-favoured liar, to come prate of morning. 
With torch-light in thy hand to scare the darkness. 

Ant. Thou dost forget ; day's light ne'er pierceth here : 
The sun hath kindled up the open air. 

Bian. I say, 'tis but an hour since it was evening, 
A dreary, measureless, and mournful hour, 
^Tet but an hour. 

Faz. I will obey thee, officer ! 

Yet but a word — Bianca, 'tis a strange one — 
Can' St thou endure it. dearest 1 — Aldabella 



56 FAZIO. 



Scene II I.J 



Bian. Curse her ! 

Faz. Peace, peace ! — 'tis dangerous ; sinners' curses 
Pluck them down tenfold from the angiy heavens 
Upon the curser's head. — Beseech thee, peace ! 
Forgive her — for thy Fazio's sake, forgive her. 

Bian. Any thing not to think on her Not yet 

They shall not kill thee — by my faith they shall not ! 
I'll clasp mine amis so closely round thy neck, 
That the red axe shall hew them off, ere shred 
A hair of thee : I will so mingle with thee. 
That they shall strike at random, and perchance 
Set me free first 

[The bell sounds, her grasp relaxes, and she stands torpid. 
Fazio kisses her, lohich she docs not seem to he conscious of. 

Faz. Farewell, farewell, farewell ! — 

She does not feel, she does not feel ! — Thank heaven, 
She does not feel her Fazio's last, last kiss ! — 
One other! — cold as stone— sweet, sweet as roses. \Exit ix. 
Bian. (Slowly recovering, r. c.) Gone, gone ! — he is not 
air yet, not thin spirit ! — 
He should not glide away — he is not guilty — 
Ye murder and not execute. — Not guilty ! 

^Exit, followed by Philario, ii. 

Scene III. — A magnificent apartment in tlieimlace of Alda- 
bella — every appearance of a ball prolonged till morning. 

Duke, Lords, Falsetto, Dandolo, a7id Aldabella 
discovered. 

Duke. 'Tis late, 'tis late ; the yellow morning light 
Streams in upon our sick and waning lamps. 
It was a jocund night : but good my friends, 
The sun reproves our lingering revelry ; 
And, angry at our scorning of his state. 
Will shine the slumber from our heavy eyes. 

Gon. There's one, my liege, will sleep more calm than 
we : 
But now I heard the bell with iron tonsjue 



Scene III.] FAZIO. 57 

Speak out unto the still and common air 
The death-stroke of the murderer Fazio. 

Duke. So, lady, fare thee well : our gentlesi thanks 
For thy fair entertaining. — Ha ! what's here % 

Enter Bianca, l. followed hy Phil arid. 

Bian. Ha ! ye've been dancing, dancing — so have I : 
But mine was heavy music, slow and solemn — 
A bell, a bell : my thick blood roll'd to it. 
My heart swung to and fro, a dull deep motion. 

[Seeing Aldabei.la 
'Tis thou, 'tis thou ! — I came to tell thee something. 

Aid. (Manned and sJirieking.) Ah me ! ah me ! 

Bian. Nay, shrink not — I'll not kill thee : 
For if I do, I know, in the other world, 
Thou'lt shoot between me and my richest joys. — 
Thou shalt stay here — I'll have him there — all — all of him. 

Duke. What means the wild-hair'd manaic % 

Bian. (Moving him aside.) By and by — 

[ To Aldabella. 
E tell thee, that warm cheek thy lips did stray on 
But yesternight, 'tis cold and colourless : 
The breath, that stirr'd among thy jetty locks. 
That was such incense to thee — it is fled : 
The voice, that call'd thee then his soul of soul — 
I know it — 'twas his favourite phrase of love — 
I've heard it many a time myself — 'twas rapturous ; 
That mild, that musical voice is frozen now : 
The neck whereon thy arms did hang so tenderly, 
There's blood upon it, blood — I tell thee, blood. 
Dost thou hear that % is thy brain fire to hear it ? 
Mine is, mine is, mine is. 

Duke. 'Tis Fazio's wife. 

Bian. It is not Fazio's wife. Have the dead wives ? 
Ay, ay, my liege ; and I know thee, and well — 
Thou art the rich-robed minister of the laws. 
Fine laws ! rare laws ! most equitable laws ! 
Who robs his neighbour of his yellow dust. 
Or his bright sparkling stones, or such gay trash 
Oh, he must die, die for tlae public good. 



0« FAZIO. [Act V 

And if one steal a husband from his wife, 
Do dive into her heart for its best treasure. 
Do rend asunder whom Heaven Hnk'd in one— 
Oh, they are meek, and meixiful, and milky — 

'Tis a trick of human frailty Oh, fine laws ! 

-Rare laws ! most equitable laws ! 

Duke. Poor wi'etch, 
AVho is it thus hath wrong'd thee % 

Bian. (To the Duke. J Come thou here. 

[ TAe others crowd around her — she says to Falsetto, 
Get back, get back : the god that thou ador'st, 
Thy god is dead, thou pitiful idolater ! 

[ To Dandolo — shewing her dress, 
I know they are coarse and tatter'd — Get thee back. 

[ To the Duke. 

I tell thee, that rich woman — she ^My liege, 

I'll speak anon — my lips do cling together, 
There's dust about my tongue — I cannot move it. 
Duke. Ho, there ! some wine ! 
Bian. Thank thee, 'tis moist — I thank thee ! 

[As she raises the goblet to her lips, she sees Aldabblla, end 

dashes it awai/.] 
Her lips have been upon it — I'll have none on't. 

Aid. My liege, thou wilt not hearken to the tale 
Of a mad woman, venting her sick fancies 
Upon a lady of my state and honour ! 

Duke. Lady, there is one state alone, that holds 
Above the range of plumed and restless justice 
Her throned majesty — the state of Virtue, 
Poor sad distraught, speak on. 

Bian. I am not mad. 
Thou smooth-lipp'd slanderer ! I have been mad. 
And then my words came vague, and loose, and broken ; 
But now, there's mode and measure in my speech. 
I'll hold my brain ; and then I'll tell my tale 
Simply and clearly. Fazio, my poor Fazio — 
He murdered not — he found Bartolo dead. 
The wealth did shine in his eyes — and he was dazzled. 
And when that he was gaily gilded up. 



SCCRE III.] 



FAZIO 69 



She, she, I say — nay, keep away from her, 
For she hath witchcraft all around her — she 
Did take him to her chamber. Fie, my liege ! 
What should my husband in her chamber ] thsn. 

Ay — then, I madden'd. Hark ! hark ! hark ! — the bell, 

The bell that I set knelling — hark — Here, here. 
Massy and cold it strikes — Here, here. [ Clasping her fore- 
head. 

Gon. Sad woman ! 
Tear not so piteously thy disorder'd hair ! 

Bian. I do not tear my hair : there should be pain 
If that I did ; but all my pain's within. [ With her hand to 

lier hosom. 
It will not break, it will not break — 'tis iron. 

Duke. If this be true 

Thil. My liege, it is the tale 
That Fazio told me ere he died. 

Bian. Ay, sir. 
The dying lie not — ^he, a dying man. 
Lied not — and I, a dying woman, lie not : 
For I shall die, spite of this iron here. 

Duke (to Aldabella.) There is confession in thy guilty 
cheeks. 
Thou high-boi'n baseness ! beautiful deformity ! 
Dishonoured honour ! — How hast thou discredited 
All that doth fetter admiration's eye. 
And made us out of love with loveliness ! 
I do condemn thee, woman, by the warrant 
Of this my ducal diadem, to put on thee 
The rigid convent vows : there bleach anew 
Thy sullied breast ; there temper thy rank blood 
Lay ashes to thy soul ; swathe thy hot skin 
In sackcloth ; and God give thee length of days, 
T' atone, by this world's misery, this world's sin. 

\Exit Aldabella, r. 

Bian. Bless thee. Heaven bless thee ! — Yet it must not 
be. 
My Fazio said we must forgive her — Fazio 
Said so ; and all he said is best and wisest. 

Duke. She shall have her desert : aught more to ask of us ? 



60 lAzro 



[Act V 



Eian. My chlldrfcii — thou'lt protect them — Oh, my liege; 
Make them not rich : let lliem be poor and honest. 

Duke. I will. I AviU. 

Bum. Why, then, 'tis time, 'tis tmie. 
Aiid thou believ'st he is no murderer 1 (Duke hous as 

Thou'lt lay me near him, and keep her away Ir >ra us. 

It breaks, it breaks, it breaks. — it is not iron ID-ies, 

The Curtain FaJ.l». 



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